Auror on the Run
by Reverie Wilde
Summary: A string of Death Eater murders drives Lucius Malfoy to turn himself in to the Ministry. It all goes wrong when the vigilante strikes as Auror Harry attempts to bring Lucius into custody. Harry finds himself on the run with Draco, who is injured in the attack. With a killer on the loose, Harry must find a way to prove his own innocence while protecting Draco. HP/DM slash
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to another Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy slash fic. Thanks to Tony Moonstone for the idea of a vigilante killer of Death Eaters that manages to put Harry and Draco in yet another situation to get to know each other better. I tweaked the idea to suit my needs, and I hope it doesn't disappoint. And thanks to Tony Moonstone for also bringing me out of semi-retirement lol.

This story takes place about 2 1/2 years after the end of the war. Harry and Ron are Aurors in training. Much of the story takes place in the Muggle world, and I've really tried to do a lot of research. However, I will make many mistakes, as I am American. Please forgive me. PM me if you see something glaring.

Posting may be sporadic. But I'll try to keep up.

disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Harry Potter series, and do not make money from them. That would be prostitution.

*Cover art for this fic by Chouette_E on DeviantArt*

* * *

"Oi, Harry, did you hear there was another murder last night?" Ron asked, sitting at his desk munching on a pumpkin pasty.

"That makes five, then," Harry replied. "We've got to stop this before it gets out of hand."

"What's this _we_ shite? We're still Aurors in training. You think they're going to let us in on the big cases?" Ron scoffed. "Besides, this person is doing our job for us."

"Our job isn't to pick off the Death Eaters one by one. It's to bring them in to stand trial. If the Ministry condoned the killings, we wouldn't be any better than the Death Eaters."

"Well, we can disagree about that. But I suppose not all of them deserve the death penalty."

Harry nodded. "That's all I'm saying. Most of the Death Eaters that have been brought in so far have been sentenced to Azkaban with the hope of rehabilitation."

"You think that will actually work?" Ron asked.

Giving it some thought, Harry answered, "Not for all of them. But with Voldemort gone, there's not as much pressure to follow. You know as well as I do that there were plenty of witches and wizards coerced or threatened to join the Death Eaters."

Harry was specifically speaking about Draco Malfoy, one of the few underage wizards to carry the Dark Mark. He truly believed Draco was forced not only by Voldemort, but his parents, to take part. Harry supposed that Draco had put himself through some sort of self-rehabilitation when he officially renounced the Death Eaters. His father, Lucius, on the other hand, chose to run away and hide instead. Claiming to be under Voldemort's Imperius spell may have worked once, but it wouldn't work again.

Wiping his mouth, Ron sighed. "Another day of paying dues. Pass me the paperwork for the Apothecary burglary."

Harry chuckled. "This case is just as important as the Death Eater murders. At least it is to the shop owner."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just a bit boring. I want some excitement."

"Be careful what you wish for," a voice came from the doorway. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood, filling the entire space. He was an intimidating man, for those who didn't know him personally.

"Yes, sir," Ron grumbled.

"Harry, I have a job for you," Shacklebolt said.

Harry sat up straighter. "Of course. What is it?"

"A Death Eater wants to turn himself in. These killings have got him spooked. He wants to negotiate a deal. Names and locations of other Death Eaters, plus a guilty plea for a shortened sentence in the south end of Azkaban."

"The south end, sir?"

"Where the lesser criminals are housed."

"Oh. And what would you like me to do?" Harry reached for a parchment. "Shall I draw up an agreement?"

"No, Harry. I want you to escort this prisoner personally."

"Why me? Surely, there are other Aurors with more experience–

"He requested you by name. Or, rather, his son did. We haven't spoken directly with Lucius Malfoy."

"Crikey," Ron said. "That old coward is finally turning himself in?"

"I still don't understand why it has to be me," Harry said.

"Draco Malfoy requested you because, and I quote, _Potter is probably the only Auror stupid enough to be completely honest and fair_." Shacklebolt smiled. "I certainly hope that's not true. But if he feels more comfortable turning his father over to you, then that's what he'll get. I'll let you know all the details once they're ironed out."

After Shacklebolt left, Ron scoffed. "Malfoy, still getting his own way, the git. Do you think old Lucius really has information about the other Death Eaters?"

Harry shrugged. Though Harry had had interactions with Draco since the end of the war, it had been about six months since he last saw him. Harry recalled how gaunt and pale Draco looked after his father had gone into hiding. Narcissa and Draco were subjected to interrogations, house searches and wand testing. After being kept in a Ministry holding cell for forty-eight hours straight, Draco finally publicly renounced the ways of the Death Eaters and condemned Voldemort's philosophies. Harry had attended that press conference. He was shocked by Draco's appearance, and at the time, thought the Ministry's tactics weren't any better than Voldemort's. Of course, that was an exaggeration. Harry was simply too naive at the time. But he didn't think it was necessary to detain Draco the way they did. He had already begun to turn against the Death Eaters, and he told Harry as much during what seemed to be a chance meeting in Diagon Alley. Later, Harry realized that Draco had several "chance meetings" with peers who fought on the right side of the war. The former Death Eater had explained and admitted his role among Voldemort's followers and apologized, or tried to. Though many rebuffed Draco's attempt at penitence, Harry had appreciated the gesture.

By the end of the day, a messenger handed Harry a parchment with information regarding Lucius Malfoy's arrest. It was to take place on Friday evening at midnight at the Town Hall of Ackerley. It was out of the way and mostly abandoned, with little chance of Muggles being about. Harry couldn't blame Malfoy for not wanting to meet in a wizarding town or going directly to the Ministry without seeing and signing the negotiation agreement. He still thought it odd that he was personally requested.

After finishing up his work on Friday, Harry had supper with Ron and Hermione, then went home to tidy up. He wasn't nervous about picking up Malfoy. But rather was anxious to prove himself capable of handling real Auror duties. A few minutes before midnight, Harry put on his black Auror robes and apparated to the town of Ackerley.

The moon was just a small sliver high in the sky, and clouds drifted across more often than not. Harry waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness, then scouted the area for Lucius. Not there yet. He decided to keep to the shadows until the Death Eater arrived.

Five minutes or so later, Harry heard the crunch of shoes on the fine gravel around the hall, which had been slowly crumbling down for years. The cloud cover parted for a moment and Harry could see not one but two heads of impossibly light hair. He hadn't realized Draco would be accompanying his father. Pulling out both his wand and the agreement parchment, Harry took a step toward the pair. The younger Malfoy nodded an acknowledgement to Harry.

From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted movement to the left of the Malfoys.

"Get down!" he shouted, as a streak of green bolted toward father and son.

As Harry turned in the direction from which the hex came, several more curses were hurtled toward Lucius and Draco. The building facade next to them exploded outward, showering them with debris.

Raising his wand, Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

He tried again. "Impedimenta!"

Both spells were repelled by their target, which, Harry barely caught sight of. What he was able to see, shook him to the core. He was certain the assailant had been wearing red Auror robes.

Having lost his suspect, Harry hurried to the pair of Malfoys lying next to one another in crumpled heaps on the ground.

"Rennervate." He tried to rouse Lucius. When that didn't work, Harry put a hand to Lucius' neck. No pulse.

"Damnit!"

Draco groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Kneeling before him, Harry examined Draco as best he could. There was a bump on the side of his head, along with a nasty gash.

Harry glanced around. He didn't know if the attacker was still in the area. There was nothing he could do for Lucius, but he needed to get Draco out of there. But where to go? If someone from the Ministry was the one going after Death Eaters, Harry couldn't take Draco there. And whomever it was saw Harry, so he couldn't go home.

In a split decision, Harry apparated himself and Draco to Hogsmeade. They appeared behind the post office. Luckily, the moon was hidden behind clouds, so they couldn't be seen. Not that there was anyone out and about at that hour. To be sure Draco didn't wake and disapparate away, Harry hit him with a Bewitched Sleep spell. Then he cast a quick glamour on himself and went around to the Hog's Head Inn.

"Welcome to the Hog's Head Inn," a bored night receptionist droned at Harry. "Room?"

Harry nodded.

"Five galleons. You want the mornin' paper?"

"Sorry?"

"The Prophet. Only two Sickles, and delivered to your room."

"Uh, yeah, all right then." Harry put the money on the counter.

The sleepy man handed Harry a chunky-looking key. "Room 304. Third floor."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled. "Oh, is there an Anti-Appararition charm on the room?"

"Course. But if you 'ave your key in your pocket, you'll be able to apparate in and out."

He walked through the bar area of the inn and crept up the creaky stairs. The door to room 304 stood somewhat crookedly in the doorframe, and had a large brass knob of a handle. Under it was a place for the magical key. As soon as he walked in, he put the key in his pocket and went to get Draco.

Back in the room, Harry was able to inspect Draco's injuries more thoroughly. He hesitated before deciding to undress the former Slytherin. The man would probably be furious, or embarrassed, at Harry doing so without consent. But he was unconscious and bleeding at the moment, so Harry had no choice.

Once down to his pants, Draco's body revealed more damage than Harry was expecting. Harry used a modified Revelio spell he learned in Auror training to help diagnose and identify the wounds.

He closed the gash on Draco's head, and one on his shoulder, with the same spell Snape had used to counteract the Sectum Sempra Harry had used on Draco Sixth Year.

Harry shuddered at the memory.

Continuing on, Harry found a slight fracture in Draco's left fibula. It would probably heal quickly enough as long as Draco didn't put pressure on it, but Harry cast a Bandaging Charm just to be safe.

The most concerning thing to Harry was the head injury. Draco most certainly had a concussion, but how severe, Harry couldn't tell. Using medical magic on the brain was tricky business, even for a trained Mediwitch. Best to keep him under the sleeping spell in order to heal naturally.

Pulling the covers up around his unwitting companion, Harry sighed and sat down on the other side of the bed.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning. He was exhausted. But his mind raced. By now, the Ministry would be aware that Harry had failed his mission. Surely Lucius' body would have been discovered.

His eyelids growing heavy, Harry decided to wait until morning to owl Shacklebolt to keep him apprised.

hdhdhd

At precisely five in the morning, a newspaper was slid under the door of Harry's room. He'd been sleeping for less than three hours, but woke completely at the soft sliding sound.

He padded silently across the room and picked up the paper. There on the first page was a photo of Lucius Malfoy with the word DEAD slapped across it.

"News travels quickly," he said to himself. He was surprised Shacklebolt let the information out before they could conduct a formal investigation and get Harry's input.

He was about to toss the paper aside when something caught his eye. Skimming the lower portion of the article, Harry's mouth dropped open when he read the words 'prime suspect, Harry Potter.'

The article went on to imply that Harry had no alibi for the times of any of the other murders, as well as a strong motive for wanting all of the Death Eaters gone. The author also cited Harry's rebellious streak as The Chosen One as part of a psychological profile, which fit in with a rogue vigilante. Just the sort to take it upon himself to rid the wizarding world of evil without going through the proper channels.

"Fuck."

He threw the paper across the room, then winced as he caught sight of Draco in the bed, forgetting that he was still under the influence of Bewitched Sleep.

Harry's brow furrowed. It occurred to him that only he, Draco, and the attacker knew that Draco had been at the rendezvous point. They apparently made no effort to inform Lucius' son of his death before reporting it in the paper.

And Harry would be the lucky tosser to break the bad news.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry sighed. His first instinct was to owl Ron. Odds were, it would be intercepted or confiscated by the Ministry. It was too dangerous to reveal himself to anyone until he had a way to clear his name.

The sun was beginning to peek through the tattered blinds on the window.

_Fucking sunrise comes earlier and earlier,_ Harry thought.

Too lazy to change, he transfigured his clothing a bit in case the same receptionist was still on duty. He didn't want to appear to have slept in his clothes, which he did. His stomach was rumbling and he needed food.

"Excuse me." Harry tried to smile. "Where can I get some breakfast?"

"We don't serve 'til noon. And then it's just spirits. Don't have no food until four. You can try Madame Puddifoots or Three Broomsticks. It might be a bit early though."

"Thanks."

Knowing Draco was safe up in the room, Harry decided to walk through the village to see if either of those places were open. Madame Puddifoot's wouldn't have been his first choice. The only time he ever went there, with Cho Chang, he absolutely hated it. It wasn't only the over-the-top pink decorations or the fact that all the couples inside were kissing and cuddling. He hadn't quite figured out by then that it was his date. Particularly that his date was female. The thought of kissing and cuddling with her made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable. Luckily, Cho became upset and left before too long, and put Harry out of his misery.

Perhaps he could get some tea and crumpets to go.

As he approached, he could see that it was closed. Secretly thankful, Harry walked on. The lights were just coming on inside The Three Broomsticks as he came upon it. He pulled open the door.

"Are you serving yet?" he asked.

"Cook's not in for another half hour," a perky young witch told him.

"Oh." Harry's shoulders slumped. He turned to leave.

"But I think we may have some leftover pork pies in the kitchen. I could put up a pot of tea."

"Tea and pork pie sounds brilliant." Harry smiled. He'd have settled for nearly anything. But he lucked out with the pork pie. He wondered if they had two, so he could bring one back for Draco.

Taking a seat at the bar, Harry's head bobbed occasionally. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Keeping his eyes open was becoming difficult.

A man came in through the back entrance carrying a box. He startled Harry, whose head shot up as he gasped.

"Morning," the man called out, then spotted Harry. "Oh, you're an early customer."

Harry waved half-heartedly. He wasn't in any mood for conversation with strangers. When the barmaid came back with a cup of tea and a pork pie, he was grateful.

He thanked her, then ate in silence.

The delivery man brought in a few more boxes before chatting up the young barmaid. Harry didn't pay them any mind, until his name was brought up. His first instinct was to leave as quickly as possible. Then he remembered he was wearing a Glamour. From what he could hear, the Ministry was looking for Harry to bring him in for questioning.

Harry had to force himself not to shove the rest of the pie into his mouth so he could leave. He had to play it much cooler than that.

Interrupting the others' conversation, Harry asked, "Would you happen to have another pork pie in the kitchen? I'd like to take one for later."

"Oh, of course sir. I'll be right back." The girl sort of half curtsied, half bowed before whisking off to the kitchen.

"How about you?" the delivery man asked Harry.

"How about me, what?"

"Do you think what Harry Potter is doing is wrong? Or do those bastards deserve it?"

Harry regarded the man. It would probably have been best to simply go along with him so he could get out of there. "Well, I don't think it's him at all."

"But he was the one who was sent to get Malfoy."

"That doesn't mean he killed him." Harry frowned. He didn't want to defend himself too vehemently for fear of suspicion. "I mean, witches and wizard did all sorts of . . . questionable things during the war, in the name of fighting evil. But flat-out murder? I don't think Harry Potter would resort to that."

The man nodded. "I suppose you might be right. But still, I don't think anyone would condemn him if he did."

"No one is above the law," Harry said. "Not even . . . him." Harry very nearly said _me_, but caught himself.

Just then, the barmaid came out with a second pork pie. It was perfect timing as Harry has finished the first and was more than ready to leave. He paid the girl, giving her a decent tip for her troubles, and left.

Making his way toward the Hog's Head Inn, he tried to keep a steady pace, though he wanted to run. He needed to get out of Hogsmeade, and the wizarding world, straightaway.


	2. Chapter 2

Arriving back at the Hog's Head, Harry felt he had no choice but to rouse Draco from the sleeping spell. It would be difficult to explain to the hotel receptionist why he had an unconscious traveling companion. If he could convince Draco he needed protection in the first place.

"Finite Incantatem."

Draco didn't wake immediately, as Harry thought. He supposed the concussion had something to do with that. But Harry was getting anxious and began to pace.

"Where am I?" Draco's voice was weak. "Uh, my head."

Harry hurried to his side. "Don't try to sit up. I think you have a concussion, as well as some other injuries."

Draco's brow furrowed as he looked at Harry. "What happened? Were we attacked?"

Nodding, Harry answered, "Yes. Do you remember anything? Were you able to see the assailant?"

Draco closed his eyes, as if trying to picture it in his head. "I saw you walking toward us. You had your wand out . . . and something else."

"The agreement parchment."

"Oh. Then you shouted for us to get down. And . . ." Draco gasped. "Where is my father? Is he all right?"

Harry looked about the room, at anything other than Draco. He desperately wished someone else was there to tell the bad news. As a young Auror, he hadn't much experience dealing directly with witnesses. He certainly never had to speak with family members of a murder victim.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said softly. "Your father took the first curse directly. He's . . . dead."

Draco blinked several times. But tears filled his eyes faster than he could blink them away. He covered his face and sobbed.

Harry sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He didn't know if he should get up, say something, or comfort the man. Regardless of their prior relationship, Draco was now a witness in Harry's charge. More importantly, he was a man whose father was recently murdered.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. Despite thinking Draco was a git through most of their relationship, Harry couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy for him.

Harry decided it was best to give Draco some space, so he busied himself reading the rest of the Prophet in a chair by the window.

After a while, Draco's sobs slowed, then finally stopped. He wiped his face with the coarse blanket.

"Did you at least get the bastard?" he sniffed.

"I– no. I tried, but he was hidden in the shadows. I cast a few spells that missed. I thought it more important to tend to your injuries than to chase him. Or her."

"Why didn't you take me to St. Mungo's?" Draco glanced around. "What is this place?"

"Hog's Head Inn."

Draco made a face. "It's disgusting. I'm going home." He threw off the covers to find himself down to only his pants. He quickly pulled the covers back. "What the hell, Potter?"

Harry blushed. "I had to see where you were hurt."

"Hmph. Why is my leg bandaged?" Draco didn't seem embarrassed so much as angry. "Well, what's wrong with me?"

"Oh, um, well, you have a small fracture in your leg, and several cuts and bruises, which I've healed. And a concussion. I believe you were hit by bricks as the building fell."

"That would explain this headache." Draco lightly touched the bump on his head. "I still don't understand why you didn't take me to hospital."

This was the tricky part. Harry was going to have to convince Draco that he needed Harry's protection, despite the fact that Harry was the Ministry's number one suspect in the Death Eater murders.

"I believe your life is in danger," Harry told him. "Whomever killed your father probably wasn't expecting you to be there. And by now they'll realize that you weren't killed in the attack."

"And?"

"They don't know you _can't_ identify them."

"Oh. And you think this person will try to kill me to keep from doing that?"

Harry nodded.

"What aren't you telling me Potter? If you think I'm in danger, wouldn't we be at the Ministry?"

Sighing, Harry sat down toward the foot of the bed. "I don't know who at the Ministry I can trust. I'm fairly certain the killer was wearing traditional red Auror robes."

Draco raised an eyebrow. And Harry knew he was waiting for more.

"Apparently, I'm the prime suspect." He tossed Draco the paper.

Holding the paper to his face, Draco squinted, then closed his eyes. "What does it say? Trying to read hurts my head."

"The short version? I don't have an alibi for any of the other murders and I had the opportunity to kill Lucius." Harry pursed his lips. He hadn't meant to mention his death so casually in front of Draco. "And because I didn't report directly back to the Ministry, I appear to be guilty."

Draco scoffed. "Do they really think the Chosen One is a cold-blooded killer? You couldn't even use the killing curse on . . . the Dark Lord."

Harry was surprised Draco knew that. Most people were too busy fighting for their lives to have noticed which spell Harry had used to defeat Voldemort. And if they assumed he used the killing curse, they condoned it in the name of justice.

Obviously, they didn't anymore.

"I didn't kill any of them, including your father," he finally said.

"I know. I was there." Draco rolled his eyes. But then he looked down and sighed.

"I really am very sorry," Harry said. "I wanted justice for your father, but I didn't want him dead."

It was a long while before Draco spoke again. He sniffed, but only once.

"It's been difficult for me to come to terms with . . . everything that happened to me in my youth. And, everything I made happen. Sometimes, it feels as though someone else did the things I did. A lot of which was done out of fear."

"Dra–

Draco put up a hand to stop Harry. "Don't. Don't try to make excuses. I wasn't the only wizard fearing for my life or the lives of my family. I could have been brave. I could have stood up for what I knew in my heart was right. But I didn't. I didn't want to give up the wealth or status my family had. I was a fucking spoiled coward."

Harry swallowed. He wasn't expecting such a frank confession.

"My father was also a coward," Draco continued. "Only a coward would offer up his only son to evil in order to protect himself."

Harry didn't know what to say. He agreed with everything Draco was saying. But he couldn't imagine being in his position. Both of _his_ parents offered themselves up in order to protect him _from_ evil.

"But he was still your father."

Draco nodded, then looked up at Harry. "Are you always this generous with compassion? No wonder everybody loves you."

"Well, they don't seem to love me at the moment. They think I'm a cold-blooded killer. It's not even safe for me to stay here. I'm going to find a Muggle hotel in London to hide for the time being."

As Harry looked back at Draco, he realized the man was no longer the pale, gaunt, worn-down youth he had been. He was actually rather attractive. Draco had filled out some and the dark circle under his eyes were gone. His pallor was a shade of pink rather than ashen. But it was his eyes that had changed the most. They were still the same shade of grey, but not cold and vacant. They were full of–

"I want to go home. I need to see that my mother is all right." Draco interrupted Harry's potentially inappropriate thoughts.

"You really shouldn't put any weight on that leg. You need bedrest."

'Why didn't you simply heal it instead of bandaging it?"

"I'm relatively new to healing spells. Oh, I can heal cuts and scrape all right. But bones are another thing. If I had some Skelegro potion, I would have given into you."

"I have some at the Manor."

Harry's brow furrowed. "You do?"

"I've been spending my time practicing and perfecting potions. Someday, I wish to run my own apothecary. I'm quite certain I have a small store of Skelegro in my personal potions room."

Pursing his lips, Harry said, "It could be dangerous for you to go home."

"The Manor is protected by numerous charms. I'll be safe there."

Nodding, Harry thought to himself that it might be safe from common thieves, but if the Ministry truly wanted to get in, they'd find a way. "I'll go with you. Just in case."

Harry expected an argument, but Draco tossed off the covers and asked for his clothes. Face reddening a bit, Harry pointed to the pile on the chest of drawers.

Draco grabbed the pile and hobbled best he could into the loo.

Sitting down on the bed, Harry rubbed his face. Perhaps it was for the best if Draco could go home, leaving Harry to prove his innocence on his own. Draco was beginning to become a distraction. It wasn't only that he had to worry about Draco's safety. He had to stop thinking about the emerald green silk boxers and the prize they were covering.

Harry shook his head. "Pull yourself together Potter. You can't cock up your first real assignment ogling your ward."

hdhdhd

As soon as they apparated into the Manor, Draco put his finger to his mouth. Harry realized at once the wards must have been disturbed. Though he couldn't feel it, Draco would know instantly. They stood in the great foyer silently and listened.

Draco raised his wand. "Homenum Revelio."

They looked at one another when nothing happened. At least there was no intruder in the Manor.

But Draco appeared disturbed. "Then my mother isn't here. She could be in danger."

"There's no reason to jump to conclusions," Harry reminded him. "Yet. Is anything missing?"

Draco gave a brief chuckle. "This house is full of magical and non-magical items. I couldn't begin to know everything that's missing."

"Anything obvious then? Anything your mother would have taken with her if she left on her own?"

Draco glanced around, then began to limp toward the sitting room. "There was a photo here of me in my Hogwarts robes."

Harry took Draco by the arm to help him walk through the Manor. It had been years since Harry and his friends had been taken captive there. But he shivered at the memory still.

Harry performed a Hovering Charm in order to get Draco up the grand staircase. Once on the second floor, Draco reached out for Harry's arm. Harry didn't mind the contact, but it reminded him of the distraction Draco was becoming.

In Lucius and Narcissa's bedroom, Draco turned to Harry. "Some of her jewelry is missing."

"I suppose it could have been stolen," Harry admitted.

Shaking his head, Draco replied, "Anyone who knows the worth of fine jewelry wouldn't have left these." He picked up a pair of diamond earrings. "But a locket from her grandmother is gone. It isn't a particularly valuable piece. It's rather hideous, in fact. But mother always kept it displayed on her chest of drawers as she had fond memories of the woman."

"That's a good sign then. If your mother had been taken forcibly, she probably wouldn't have been able to take sentimental knick-knacks."

"And it is odd that even the House Elves are gone."

Harry agreed. "But if your mother had left on her own, the wards wouldn't have been disturbed. I'm not convinced it's safe for you to stay here alone."

"Trying to get an invitation Potter?" Draco smirked.

Harry snorted. "I don't think it's safe for you to be here. Period."

Sighing, Draco conceded. "You're probably right. Especially if you think an Auror is somehow involved."

"We'd better get back to Hogsmeade. And then I'll probably head to London. Blend in with the Muggles."

"Wait." Draco pocketed the earrings and took a few more pieces from his mother's collection. "I need somethings from my room, including the Skelegro."

Before he got too far, Harry followed, annoyed that Draco left the room without him. Not knowing the full layout of the mansion, he didn't want to get lost. He found Draco with his shirt off standing in front of a wardrobe full of fine clothing.

"Oh, sorry." Harry turned to wait in the hall. "It's not anything you haven't seen already Potter," Draco called out, taunting him.

Harry rolled his eyes. He was never going to live that down. However, he was surprised that Draco joked about being undressed while unconscious rather than being angry. Perhaps Draco had more of a sense of humor than Harry ever thought.

"Here." When Draco emerged from his room, wearing a pair of close-fitting trousers, a silk button-down shirt and tweed sport coat, Harry had to force himself not to stare. That was when he noticed Draco was using a walking stick. He figured it must have been a Malfoy thing. Draco held something out for Harry.

"Uh, what's all this?"

"Fresh clothes. They might be a bit big, but you can shrink them if you need."

They weren't the sort of clothing Harry normally wore, but he had been wearing the same outfit since Friday morning, so he graciously accepted. He stood awkwardly for a moment.

"The loo is just down the hall," Draco said, pointing. Then he went back into his bedroom.

Harry changed into the trousers, which were too long, and a finely-knit light jumper. He supposed Draco chose the items that were most casual from his wardrobe, as they suited Harry more than silk would have. He rolled up the sleeves a turn or two and looked in the mirror. Good enough.

He met Draco in the hall just outside the loo. "Did you get what you needed?" he asked.

Draco held up a pouch that jingled when he shook it. "A stash of galleons. I have a feeling we're going to need it."

"What I need is more Muggle money," Harry said.

"Which is why I took the jewelry. I assume Muggles use pawn shops much the same as we do."

Harry nodded, then blinked as he realized what Draco had said. "Are you coming with me to London?"

"Where else have I to go? If . . . that's all right with you."

"If you wish." There were several reasons Harry didn't mind Draco's company, though he tried to appear apathetic. "Did you take the potion?"

"Drank up the whole dreadful thing," Draco said with sarcastic smile.

"Let's go then."

"Hold on."

"Now what?"

Draco took out his wand. "Reducio."

Harry's trouser legs shortened to a more acceptable length. But he also felt them a bit tighter across his arse. "They were fine the way they were," he grumbled.

Next, Draco shrank the length of his sleeves. Harry noticed the jumper was also more taught across his chest. If he didn't know better, he would have thought Draco was quite pleased with the way Harry looked in his clothes, judging by his expression.

"My turn." Harry took out his own wand.

"My clothes already fit impeccably."

"This is for your face."

Harry giggled at the look of horror on Draco's face before it transformed into perfectly average and nondescript. When he did the same to himself, Draco frowned.

"Well that's not entirely pleasant to look at," he complained.

As they apparated back to Hogsmeade, Harry's last thought was that Draco may have found Harry's own face entirely pleasant.

They agreed to stay that night at the Hog's Head Inn and get one more meal in the morning in Hogsmeade before heading off to the big city.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to The Ultimate Undesirable, yukino76, and cassy1994 for reading and reviewing!**

**I don't think this will be a particularly long fic–maybe about 9 chapters. Unless I end up in a different direction than I'm planning**

* * *

Draco and his Glamoured face waited outside the Hog's Head Inn for Harry to check out and return the room key. Harry thought it was best to tie up loose ends, rather than skip out. The man at the reception desk probably wouldn't recall a guest who had followed proper procedures, but he'd remember someone who never bothered to check out and kept the key. Better to be safe than sorry.

Harry had to force himself not to hurry out of the Inn and apparate away with Draco. They had to appear not to have a care in the world.

They walked casually over to the Three Broomsticks and had a leisurely breakfast while trying not to look as though they were about to be discovered. Afterward, Harry paid the server, tipping her generously, and walked out with Draco.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked.

Harry merely shrugged. "We'll figure it out when we get there."

He took Draco's arm and disapparated out of the wizarding world.

There were few places Harry knew well in London. One was the Leaky Cauldron, which, for obvious reasons they couldn't go. The other was King's Cross Station. It would be familiar to Draco as well.

When they appeared near the large double arches of the station, Harry smiled to himself. Though he had spent much of his youth fighting evil at Hogwarts, it had still been his home. A trip to King's Cross meant he was going home. His nostalgia was short-lived, as he was looking for a hotel room, not a train ride.

"Why have you brought us here?" asked Draco.

"It's familiar to both of us. I thought you'd be more comfortable in the Muggle world here rather than someplace new."

"Oh. Thank you."

Harry pointed across the street and down just a bit. "There's a hotel. We could see if they have a room. Or two," he added.

When they walked into the lobby, Harry grinned. "It's beautiful."

"It's all right," Draco mumbled.

"It's the nicest hotel I've ever been in. And there's a restaurant right here. If it's not terribly expensive, I think we should stay here," Harry told him. "Your concussion will take longer to heal unless you rest. It's been a busy day already. You can't apparate all over the place looking for the sort of hotel you're accustomed to."

"Now that you mention it, my head does ache."

Leaving Draco sitting in the lobby, Harry approached the front desk. A young woman greeted him with a warm smile.

"How may I help you sir?"

"Do you have any rooms available?"

"Yes sir, what are you looking for? Single?"

"Uh . . ." He glanced back at Draco. "Yes I suppose. Actually, would you have two singles?"

The woman typed on the computer keyboard and in a matter of moments had an answer for Harry.

"We have only one single. But we have a few doubles available."

"Okay. Um, how much does a room cost for the night?" he asked.

"Ninety pounds. Would you like two doubles?" She smiled again.

Harry mentally calculated how much money two rooms for the next few days would cost. Over five hundred pounds. And that didn't even include food. Harry didn't have near that much Muggle money in his wallet.

"Um, just one room for now." He turned and looked at Draco again. He was probably going to kill Harry.

"All right then. Name?"

"Jameson. First initial is H."

"Splendid. May I see your ID?"

Harry handed over the Muggle driver's license his Uncle Vernon made him get, so he could run errands for the family without the use of magic. He had spelled the name to read Harry Jameson rather than his real name. It had come in handy several times already when Harry didn't want to use his real name.

"And how many nights will you be staying with us Mr. Jameson?"

"I, I'm not certain. Three maybe? Can I extend my stay if I need to?"

"Let me see." She typed on the computer a bit more. "I can put you on the fourth floor. Room four-twenty-six. It's available for the next two weeks."

"Oh, well, I don't think we'll need it that long. But, um, I'll take it."

"Very good, sir. Will you be paying with credit?"

"Cash."

"Oh."

The woman seemed surprised, and Harry wondered if it was odd for Muggles to pay for hotels with cash. But he didn't have a credit card. He used Gringott's and converted his galleons to pounds when he ventured into the Muggle world.

"That will be two hundred seventy pounds." She gave her practiced smile once again.

"Do I have to pay in advance for all the nights? Can I pay for tonight, and then the rest when we check out?"

"Im sorry, sir. Without a credit card, advanced payment is expected. But I can give you a cash discount," she added perkily. A few more strokes on the keyboard and Harry's cost was down to two hundred fifty-six.

Reluctantly, he took out his money and handed it over. "Is there any other sort of discount you could give us?" "Hm, let me think," she said.

While she was thinking and typing on her computer, Harry performed a wandless Confundus Charm. He was loath to do so, but paying for the hotel would leave him without enough Muggle money to buy dinner for Draco. And the thought of dining in a restaurant as equals was very appealing to Harry.

Lo and behold, she found another "discount" that brought Harry's bill down to two hundred ten pounds.

She blinked as she handed Harry his change. He happily put it back in his pocket to save for later. After receiving two keycards and a printout of his receipt, he walked to Draco. Though the Glamour hid any signs of fatigue on Draco's face, his body language told Harry he was in need of a nap.

"We're all set," Harry said. He held his hand out.

Draco looked at it, then held up his walking stick. "I'm not an invalid."

"How _is_ your leg?"

"Not healed yet. Ugh, it's aching. Annoyingly."

"Didn't you take a potion for pain?"

Draco shook his head. "I forgot how much healing bones hurt."

"Come on. We'll get you some Muggle medication." Harry took Draco by the elbow when the man hesitated.

Harry purchased paracetamol and a couple of Cokes in the gift shop, then led Draco to the lift. He stopped in front of room four twenty-six and slid the keycard into the slot. When the light turned green, he turned the handle and opened the door for Draco to walk through first.

Immediately to the right was a large loo in pristine, white tile with neutral accents. As Harry followed Draco in, he peeked in and saw a very large glass shower. That would be his first order of business. He hadn't bathed since Friday morning.

In the main area was a writing desk with a television sitting atop. Near that was a sort of mini wardrobe for clothing. The king-sized bed was smartly dressed in maroon stripes and looked far more comfortable than the one at the Hog's Head.

Harry glanced in the mirror as he passed. "I suppose I can remove the Glamours now that we're alone."

Draco lay down on the bed straightaway. "Aah," he sighed. He rolled to his side, curled up, then stretched out. "This will do."

Meanwhile, Harry opened a Coke and poured two paracetamol tablets into his hand.

"These will help," he said. "Take them, then take a nap."

"Mm." Draco did as he was told.

"I'll wake you for supper."

"All right. Where is your room?" Draco mumbled.

"Uh . . . I only had enough money for one room."

Draco's eyes drifted open and one eyebrow rose. "Really Potter?"

"Well, I don't carry around that much Muggle money. Normally I wouldn't even have had as much as I did. But I had just converted some galleons the day . . ." Harry trailed off. "Anyway, the bed is plenty big enough. You won't even know I'm there."

"I will if you don't stop talking." Draco closed his eyes.

Harry stood watching him a moment. Draco didn't protest nearly as much as Harry had expected. Then again, Draco was still injured.

Taking advantage of the luxurious accommodations, Harry went into the loo. It was about three times the size of his little cupboard under the stairs. And spotless. He made a mental note to get some toiletries at some point. He would have preferred to brush his teeth. At least the hotel provided shampoo and soap for the shower.

The shower was, in Harry's opinion, amazing. It easily had room for three people. And Harry felt a bit naughty knowing that he was in full view of anyone that came into the loo. There were two shower heads, and at first Harry couldn't figure out why. Certainly one was sufficient to clean.

He lathered up his hair with the house shampoo, then conditioned. After Hogwarts, Hermione had suggested he take more care with his personal hygiene routine. She too, had unruly locks and advised him to condition his to keep it from sticking up all over. He was surprised by how well that worked.

While he soaped up his well-toned body, he thought of the case. He had been too distracted earlier by Draco too really put his mind to it. He thought of all the Aurors, and which one could possibly have been the murderer. None seemed particularly violent or prejudice against the Death Eaters. Of course, all were committed to bringing them to justice. Harry came up empty regarding his suspect.

He was also certain that whomever had disturbed the wards at Malfoy Manor was an Auror. Too many items of obvious value had been left behind.

Harry's thoughts then wandered to the younger Malfoy. Draco seemed to be handling the entire situation with much more grace than Harry would have expected. Losing his father suddenly, not knowing where his mother was, and having to put his trust in Harry must have been more of a strain than Draco was letting on.

The man had definitely changed. In many ways.

Harry indulged himself in the memory of undressing Draco. His intentions that night had been purely to assess the damage. But if he was being honest with himself, Harry had to admit he admired the lithe, lean limbs and expanse of alabaster skin he had seen. He closed his eyes and pictured it–running his hands down Draco's bare chest as he performed the diagnostic spell.

Harry's cock twitched.

He stood in the shower, covered in bubbly lather, with a growing hard on. He began to stroke himself gently.

His eyes flew open as he thought he heard a noise, but he was alone in the loo. Hearing it again, he decided it was someone in the hallway.

He looked to the door again. There was something terribly exciting about the prospect of getting caught wanking in full view. Looking at the shower heads, Harry realized the bottom one came off the holder. He used it to rinse off his body, and when the spray hit his cock, he let out a groan.

Biting his lip, he held the shower head to get the pressure just where he wanted it. The pulsing water all up and down his cock made him harder. If he held it there long enough, he might get off. He closed his eyes again and leaned against the back of the shower. He thought of Draco in his green silk pants. But instead of being injured and unconscious on the bed, the Draco in his mind was sucking him off.

It had been far too long since he had a lover, Harry decided, if he was imagining his childhood rival for sexual pleasure. Not just his childhood rival, but someone under his protection as an Auror. But it was too late to worry about the immoral implications. Harry was about to blow.

Though the water felt a delicious tease, Harry needed a firm grip to push him over the edge. He pumped quick and hard , imaging Draco was wanking himself as he sucked Harry, all the while gazing up at him with those piercing grey eyes.

Harry had to consciously keep from crying out when he came. His legs wobbled a moment. Then he gasped and moaned quietly. He stood unmoving for several minutes, until his body relaxed fully.

He lathered up his nether regions once more before leaving the shower. The last thing he wanted was to smell of spunk. He Scourgified the clothing Draco had given him and put them back on. Not having a comb, he smoothed his hair as best he could, then went to check on Draco.

He found Draco still asleep and snoring lightly. With nothing better to do, Harry lay down on the other side of the bed and soon drifted off himself.

hdhdhd

When Harry awoke, the bedside clock read six forty-one. He hadn't intended to nap so long. Draco was no longer beside him, but Harry could hear movement in the loo. He flushed thinking of his own experience in the loo. Briefly, he wondered if Draco was having a similar experience.

Just then, the man in question emerged.

"You're awake." Draco tucked his shirt into his trousers. "I thought I was the one who needed rest."

"I haven't been sleeping well. This bed is surprisingly comfortable."

"I suppose," Draco grumpily agreed.

Harry chuckled. "It's okay to admit that some Muggle things are very good. Sometimes even better than things we have in the magical world."

Draco scoffed. "Let's not get carried away."

A rumbling came from Draco's stomach. "Are you hungry?" Harry asked.

"Uh . . ."

"We're in the Muggle world. You're going to have to eat Muggle food or you'll starve."

"How do you know that's what I was thinking?" Draco asked.

"Because I know you."

"Apparently. Better than I thought."

Harry scooted off the bed and tried to smooth out his clothes. "Let's go have supper. There's a restaurant downstairs in the lobby. We won't even have to go outside."

Draco sighed heavily as though it was a great burden and he was doing Harry a favor. But Harry secretly suspected that Draco was equally eager to go and check it out.

"Oh, wait." Harry got out his wand and performed the Glamour spell on each of them.

Draco frowned as he gazed at his reflection. "You made me hideous."

Laughing, Harry said, "You're not hideous. You're just not as hand–" He stopped himself short before saying more than he meant. "Oh, get over yourself."

"Well, at least you've made yourself just as plain."

"The point of the Glamour is not only to disguise ourselves, but to make us unremarkable. We don't want anyone to remember us after we've left."

"But you could have made me a bit attractive." Draco pouted.

In truth, Harry thought the Glamour Draco wore was perfectly acceptable. Harry suspected it was the red tint to his hair and freckles which Draco protested. Too similar to the Weasleys.

Harry gave himself dirty blond hair, dark brown eyes and a bit of a pug nose. Someone looking for Harry and Draco would ever suspect the pair of them.

"Can you at least make it so we can see our true selves?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry adjusted the spell so they could see themselves and each other as they truly were. That way, he didn't have to keep removing and re-spelling at Draco's whim.

"Better?" Harry asked.

"Quite."

Exiting the lift, Harry was just as impressed with the hotel lobby as he had been the first time. They made their way across toward the restaurant area. Being near seven o-clock on a Sunday evening, the place wasn't crowded.

"Table for two?" An older gentleman led them to a table near the bar.

"Could we have something a bit more private?" Harry requested. Then thinking it might have been an odd request to Draco, Harry added, "We have business to discuss."

The man sat them in a dimly lit corner booth away from the few guests that were there.

"Your server will be out shortly."

"We have business to discuss?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I, well, we do. Sort of. We have to figure out who is going after Death Eaters."

"We? You're the Auror. And frankly, I'm surprised the Ministry is actually distressed about it. Whoever is doing this is doing the Ministry a favor."

Harry leaned forward, frowning. "Draco, whoever did this killed your father. I'm surprised you're not _more_ distressed about it."

For a moment, Harry thought he had gone too far. Draco blinked quickly and looked away. The last thing Harry intended was for Draco to cry in public.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Draco shook his head. "I don't know why I keep forgetting that he's gone. Is that normal?"

Shrugging, Harry replied, "I don't know. I lost people in the war, but the circumstances were different. We all knew we were risking our lives. I think if I lost someone very close to me now, I wouldn't want to face it, though."

Draco straightened up and sniffed. "But I must. And you're right. My father was a bastard in many ways. And he should have suffered the consequences of his alliance with the Dark Lord. But he didn't deserve to die the way he did. He was making an effort to make amends. In his own, self-serving way."

Harry nodded. It was clear that Draco had conflicting feelings toward his father. Harry would recommend Draco see a counselor when all this was resolved. But for the time being, Harry would be the shoulder he could lean on.

Reluctantly, Draco admitted the meal was as good as any he'd had at a wizarding restaurant, which pleased Harry to no end. But Draco was getting fatigued again, so they skipped pudding and went back up to the room.

Draco mindlessly stripped down to his pants and slipped into bed. Harry wasn't tired due to his earlier nap and had nothing to do but think. He tried watching the telly with the sound off, but it was boring and he wasn't into Muggle television the way he was in his youth. Eventually, he turned it off and tried to sleep.

hdhdhd

"Father!" Draco bolted up, gasping for breath.

In a second, Harry was awake, wand out.

"Draco, what's wrong?"

For a while, Draco seemed disoriented, glancing around the strange room. "What?"

"Did you have a nightmare?"

When Draco seemed to realize where he was, he nodded his head. "I was back at Ackerley Town Hall."

"It's all right. You're safe now."

"But my father is really dead. It wasn't just a nightmare." Draco brought his hands to his face and sobbed, the way he did when Harry first told him.

"I'm sorry." Harry's heart ached for him. If it had been Ron or Hermione, Harry would have taken them in his arms and comforted them. If it were him, he would have wanted the comfort of a friendly hug.

Taking a chance that Draco was like any other person grieving a great loss, Harry put his arm around Draco's shoulder. Draco turned and leaned in, weeping harder. He clutched at Harry's sides for a time, then stopped suddenly, pulling back.

"Sorry," he mumbled, wiping forcefully at his face. "Malfoys don't cry."

"Of course they do," Harry said. He removed his arm and scooted away. "It's all right. I know what it's like to lose a father. Not quite in the same way. But I've cried about it too."

Draco rubbed his head and groaned.

"Do you have another headache? I'll get the paracetamol."

Draco didn't look him in the eye when Harry gave him the pills. He muttered a quick thanks and turned away from him to sleep.

Harry wondered if he'd said or done something wrong. He was only trying to help. Why was Draco Malfoy so damned difficult to read?


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to all who are reading and reviewing!**

* * *

Monday morning, Harry woke slowly. For a brief moment he forgot where he was. Then he turned his head to see that Draco was still sleeping peacefully. How could he possibly have forgotten sharing a bed with a man who moved around in his sleep so much? At one point, Harry had even woken to find himself being spooned.

He took a few minutes to observe his . . . Harry wasn't sure how to refer to him. Formal rival? Witness? Possible friend? Possible more than friend?

Harry sighed. His feelings were too confused. How could he forget his volatile past with Draco and move toward something friendly, or even romantic? The odd thing was, Harry nearly _had_ forgotten about all the cruel things they had done to one another. Though Draco occasionally poked fun at Harry or gave him a bit of a hard time while they were on the run, generally his behavior had been exemplary.

Perhaps Draco was as eager to move past their past as Harry was.

Slowly getting out of bed, Harry quickly and silently dressed. He gave a last look at Draco to make sure he was still sleeping before sneaking out the door. He left the hotel and walked to an out of the way spot near the station and disapparated.

Harry appeared in Diagon Alley near the Leaky Cauldron. He glanced around nervously, then remembered he was wearing a Glamour. First, he walked to Rosa Lee Teabag where he purchased a variety of mini pastries, two cones with jam and cream, and two large teas. Then he stopped by a stall selling newspapers to pick up a copy of the day's Prophet.

By the time he got back to the hotel room, Draco was up and in the loo. Harry spread out the food on the desk and was finished just as Draco came out.

"Oh." Draco stopped short. "You're here."

"I picked up breakfast rather than go downstairs to the restaurant. Is that all right?"

Draco glanced at the food, frowning slightly, then nodded.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "You don't seemed pleased."

Yawning first, Draco answered. "No, this is fine. I just thought . . ."

Harry cocked his head waiting for the rest.

"I thought perhaps you'd grown tired of having to care for me like a child."

"You thought I'd left?" Harry didn't know whether to feel sorry for Draco or be insulted. "Do you really think I would simply leave you, injured and without protection from a murderer?"

Looking a bit sheepish, Draco picked at his fingernails. "Anybody else would have. Not that I would blame them."

"I'm not anybody else."

Draco sighed. "That, I know."

"Come and eat something. And I got a paper. If reading doesn't give you a headache."

Draco pulled the desk chair closer to the desk, while Harry grabbed his tea and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Is this today's Prophet?" Draco asked. He helped himself to a scone, already split and filled with jam and cream. "Where did you go?"

"I popped into Diagon Alley. Don't worry, no one recognized me."

"It was still taking a risk, wasn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "It was worth the homemade strawberry jam." Harry tried to brush off the fact that he'd gone very far out of his way to do something nice for Draco.

They ate in comfortable silence for a time before Draco gasped.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"My mother's been taken into custody."

"Arrested?" Harry jumped up, peering over Draco's shoulder to look at the paper. He read the article about Narcissa. It was short without much detail. Harry wondered if it was meant to draw Draco out in the open.

"I need to go to her."

Apparently, it worked.

"That may be exactly what they're aiming for." Harry re-read the beginning of the article. "It says she's in custody, not that she's been arrested. That could mean protective custody."

"Or it could mean arrested."

Harry rolled his eyes. "True. But you can't barge into the Ministry demanding to see her. If the Auror who's killing Death Eaters sees you, they could make an attempt on your life."

Draco turned to Harry. "When did I say I was going to barge in and demand anything?"

When Harry turned to look back at him, Draco face was mere inches from his. He could practically feel Draco's breath on his lips. For a second, Harry forgot what he was going to say.

"Uh . . ."

Snorting, Draco stood and walked to look out the window.

Harry mentally berated himself. "Draco, I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn. I know you're concerned for your mother. You actually haven't been demanding at all."

Draco turned around. "I'm glad you've noticed. But regarding this matter, I must insist that you find out what happened to her. If it's me they want, I'll gladly trade myself for her."

"I don't want you to do that. Er, I mean, we can't give in to blackmail. The Ministry doesn't operate that way, anyway." Harry paused. "Besides, you're not on the list of fugitive Death Eaters. I believe the Ministry considers you rehabilitated."

"And what about you?" Draco crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

Harry nodded. "You've certainly changed. If I considered you any type of threat, I wouldn't be here."

"Then what do we do?"

Sitting down at the desk, Harry thought. Ron would know what's going on with Narcissa. But the Ministry would be monitoring Ron's messages. Harry would have to send something benignly worded that had a hidden message. Perhaps sending it to Hermione instead would be better. Harry took the pad of paper from the desk. Recalling a place he went a couple of times with Ron, he began composing a message.

_Dearest Hermione, It was wonderful to see you on Tuesday. So happy for the recommendation of Sal's Cafe for breakfast. The griddles cakes were to the nines. We should meet again sometime very, very soon. Cheers, H. Jameson_

Harry admired his cleverness and handed it to Draco for approval.

"Um, Potter, this doesn't even mention anything about my mother."

"I know. I can't simply message Ron without tipping someone off. Hermione will figure out that I want to meet at Sal's Cafe at nine on Tuesday."

"She will?"

"Brightest witch of our age, remember?" Harry snickered.

"Or something to that effect," Draco grumbled. "How are you going to get the message to her?"

"I'll have to go to a satellite owlry."

"A what?"

"There are several owlries hidden in Muggle post offices. You have to choose the correct service to deliver the message. And you have to pay three Sickles. It gets re-written on parchment and delivered by owl. There's one just down the road."

"I've never heard of that."

"Why would you? You've barely been out in the Muggle world. But it's especially useful for Muggleborns who have relatives that want to keep in touch. I believe Hermione's parents have used the service."

"Shall I come with you?"

"No. Enjoy your breakfast. This post office is in the back of an odds and ends shop. It's very small. I think it would be better if I went alone." Harry smiled. "By the way, I noticed you're not using the walking stick."

"Yes. My leg feels fully healed. I wish I could say the same for my head. Reading that paper gave me a slight headache."

"Take some more paracetamol, then lie down while I'm gone. Is there anything I can get for you while I'm out?"

Harry glanced at Draco, then did a double take. He couldn't quite read the expression on the man's face. Draco lips was curled in a slight grin. But his eyes were soft and warm, and almost . . . adoring. Harry stared. Draco had never looked so handsome.

"Thank you, no," Draco finally said. "You've done more than enough already."

hdhdhd

Once he got to the post office, Harry queued along with several others. Though he had already checked twice, he put his hand in his pocket to feel for the Sickles. In his other hand, he held the letter for Hermione. There was a faint buzzing in the tiny room and Harry thought it must have been protected by a Muffliato Charm.

The man in front of him moved up to the counter and put three coins on the counter. He must have been either a wizard or Muggle family of a wizard asking for owl delivery, Harry assumed.

When it was Harry's turn, he stepped up and smiled.

"Hello. I'd like to send this letter via o.w.l."

"In the UK or out?"

"In."

"Three Sickles, please."

Harry handed them, along with the letter, over. "Will this go out today?"

"Yup. Guaranteed to go out by noon."

"Excellent." That would be plenty of time for Hermione to get the message, tell Ron and plan to be at Sal's Cafe at 9 o'clock the following morning.

It also left plenty of time for Harry and Draco to spend the day together.

As Harry walked back to the hotel, he wondered what he and Draco were going to do the whole day. He didn't even have enough Muggle money to take Draco back to the restaurant in the hotel. Perhaps they could risk going to Hogsmeade as long as they were Glamoured.

The hotel room was empty when Harry arrived. Panicking at first, he then heard the sound of running water. Draco was in the shower. Naked.

Of course he was naked. Harry shook his head. Nobody took a shower with their clothes on. Except Harry wasn't picturing Draco nude or wearing clothes while water cascaded over his body. He was picturing him in those green silk pants he had the fortune of seeing twice. Somehow, the thought of clingy, wet silk hugging the outline of Draco's substantial cock was even more erotic than thinking of Draco nude.

Harry felt his cock begin to rise in the confines of his trousers. He wanted so badly to wank.

"Fuck."

Maybe a quick one.

The water shut off.

"Fuck."

Harry adjusted himself and tried to think of the most un-erotic, mood-killing thing he could imagine. Uncle Vernon. For a moment, he wondered what Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were doing wherever they were. Dudley had reached out to Harry to try and make amends. But his aunt and uncle wanted no part in Harry's life.

Draco came out of the loo with damp, tousled hair but fully dressed.

"Success?" he asked.

But all Harry heard was sex. "What?" He gaped.

"Success sending out the message?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Harry rolled his eyes at himself.

"Did you happen to spot a pawn shop in your travels?"

"No. But then again I wasn't looking for one. You weren't serious about hocking your mother's jewelry."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why else did you think I brought it?" He continued when Harry didn't respond. "We need Muggle money. You said it yourself."

"The hotel room is paid through Wednesday morning," Harry told him. "I can probably get money from Ron."

"If they figure out your message."

"They will."

"Well, I'm going stir-crazy in this room. I need to go out for some fresh air," Draco said. He began to walk toward the door, then turned. "You coming?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

When they got down to the lobby, Draco went to the counter where a woman with purple hair stood ready to greet guests, while Harry observed the people in the lobby.

"Can I help you sir?"

Draco leaned gracefully against the counter. "I was wondering if you knew of a local pawn shop."

The woman looked up and pursed her lips, presumably in thought.

"I believe there's one about half a kilometer down on Euston."

"And if I were interested in splurging on a fine meal?"

"Our restaurant here is excellent," she answered.

"Yes, we dined here last night. But I'm looking for something more . . . upscale."

"Oh. Well, Office Knook is quite nice."

Draco frowned. "An office?"

"No, no." The young woman giggled. "I know, it's an odd name for a place to eat. But I hear they have the best ribeye around."

"Ah, and where can I find this place?"

"Office Knook is also on Euston."

Draco held out his hand. "Thank you so much for your assistance."

When she went to shake his hand, Draco instead lightly kissed the back of it. He winked when they made eye contact once again.

"You know, I've never favoured gingers, but you're quite agreeable," she said.

"What? Oh buggar," Draco muttered. He nodded and quickly made his way toward Harry.

"Get what you needed?" Harry asked.

"Why didn't you remind me that I was wearing that ridiculous Glamour? I just made a complete arse of myself."

Harry glanced at the young woman with the purple hair. She was watching them. "She seemed taken with you. You were very charming."

"I was–" Draco didn't finish his sentence, so Harry had no idea what he was going to say. But Draco squinted as though suspicious. Perhaps Draco didn't believe him. Or perhaps he did.

Either way, Harry wished he could take back the compliment. He was becoming uncomfortable under Draco's scrutiny.

"We need to find a road called Euston," Draco announced. "There's a pawn shop about half a kilometer away."

"All right." Harry was glad for the distraction.

They left the hotel and found the correct road, but weren't sure which direction to go. After walking a while and not finding the shop, the pair turned around and walked the other direction. Soon enough, they came upon an old stone and brick storefront advertising cash for jewelry.

Several other customers were in the shop, some looking in a display case, others sitting at tables with jewelry laid out in front of them. It was difficult to tell who was buying and who was selling.

Draco approached the counter.

"Good afternoon," a man greeted him.

"Good afternoon. I'm interested in selling some gold pieces."

"Very good, sir. I'll find someone who's free to help you."

Harry tugged on Draco's sleeve. "Are you certain you wan't to do this?"

Draco nodded.

A different man arrived and directed them to a table on the far side of the small shop. Draco and Harry sat across from him.

"I'm Wendell. I understand you're interested in selling some gold jewelry. Are you looking for a loan?"

"Cash," Draco said, then glanced at Harry for confirmation. He took out two necklaces and a bangle bracelet.

Wendell picked up one of the necklaces and held his loupe up to his eye. "What can you tell me about these pieces?"

"They belong to my mother. I believe all three have been passed down at least two generations. The stone in the one you're looking at now is an emerald."

"Good quality, too," the man said. "Very nice condition. Do you know the country of origin?"

"Sorry, no."

They all remained silent while Wendell inspected the lot.

"I can give you . . . six hundred quid for all three pieces."

"Is that a lot?" Draco asked.

Harry nudged him under the table, then addressed the man. "Can you give us a moment?"

Wendell nodded, leaving Harry and Draco to discuss the matter.

"You can't ask him if he's giving you a fair price. He's not going to be honest," Harry said.

"All right then. Do _you_ think it's a fair price? I have no idea what six hundred quid means."

"Well, there are roughly five quid to a galleon. So, about a hundred twenty galleons," Harry said, doing the quick math.

"And how much is a night in the hotel?"

Harry blushed. "Normally about 90 quid. But I, sort of, used the Confudus Charm so we got a better rate. I paid 70 for the first three nights."

"So, six hundred would cover quite a few more nights should we need them."

"Yeah. But I still don't think you should sell your mother's jewelry."

"Harry, the things my mother had laid out on her chest of drawers were everyday trinkets. The truly valuable things are still safely tucked away in the safe, I'm certain."

"Oh." Draco continued talking but all Harry could think about was that Draco had called him Harry. Up until then, he'd referred to him as Potter.

"All right?" Draco asked.

"Huh?"

"I'm going to take the offer."

"Uh, right. Good. Okay. What about the diamond earrings?"

"Let's see how long this money will last. We can always come back," Draco said. He raised his hand to catch Wendell's attention.

Before leaving the shop, Draco handed Harry half the money.

"Draco, that's yours."

"Consider it payback for helping me."

"I'm not helping you for the money. Besides, it's my job."

"Fine. Then a partnership. In case you need to buy something we need and we're not together. I insist you take it."

Reluctantly, Harry pocketed the paper bills.

Looking around, Draco asked, "What shall we do now?"

"You should probably rest," suggested Harry.

Draco sighed. "You're like my mother," he muttered. "I'll rest for now. But I want to go somewhere appropriate for supper."

"Appropriate?" Harry snickered. "You mean posh. The restaurant at the hotel isn't good enough for you?"

"The woman at the counter told me there's a place to get the best ribeye, and it's on this road. Don't I deserve the best?"

Harry smiled. He did indeed believe Draco deserved the best. He just couldn't work out when he came to that conclusion. He'd always thought Draco was a spoiled prat who didn't deserve any of the fine things to which he was accustom.

"All right. Rest for a few hours and we can go get you the best ribeye."

Draco appeared smugly satisfied as they walked back to the hotel. But Harry noticed that he fell asleep within minutes of lying down. Harry decided to take the time to write down the facts in the case as he remembered them. He wanted to corroborate with Ron, so he could begin to establish an alibi, even though the Prophet claimed he didn't have any.

hdhdhd

Harry hated to admit it, but it was most likely the best meal he had ever eaten. Well, perhaps that was an overstatement. The _best_ meal was the first time he had eaten at Hogwarts with brand new friends. He ate as much as he wanted of whatever he wanted. The meal at Office Knook was the _finest_ meal he had ever eaten.

"How was yours?" Harry asked.

"Delightful. Surprisingly." Draco dabbed at the corners of his mouth. "Pudding? I saw something chocolate and decadent go by as we were eating."

"I don't know if I could eat much more."

Draco lifted a finger as he caught the server's eye. The man immediately responded, bowing slightly.

"Yes sir?"

"I saw some sort of chocolate pudding."

"Ah, the smoked chocolate mousse with white chocolate sorbet and a caramel nut crunch. Excellent choice."

"Hm. What else do you have?" Draco asked.

"Blackcurrant cheesecake, lemon meringue pie, ice cream, or a cheese platter if you're looking for a savory finish to your meal."

"One slice of lemon meringue pie to split, please."

"I thought you wanted the chocolate one," Harry said after the server left.

"I saw your nose wrinkle."

"What?"

"You didn't like the sound of that one, but you wouldn't say anything. So I ordered the one that made your eyes light up."

Harry blushed. "My eyes did _not_ light up. I told you I was full."

Smirking, Draco said, "My mistake then."

The pie was equally scrumptious as the rest of the meal, though Harry could only eat a few bites. Secretly, he was glad for the choice Draco made.

The air was cooling off as they strolled leisurely toward the hotel.

"When was the last time you were in the station?" Draco asked.

Shrugging a shoulder, Harry replied, "Probably Sixth Year. I've been back to Hogwarts, but not on the train."

"I wonder if it looks the same."

Harry looked at Draco. The expression he wore was pensive and Harry thought perhaps Draco was feeling nostalgic.

"We're right here. We could take a look."

"Oh, I don't know."

Harry smirked. Draco wasn't pulling off nonchalance well. "Let's go."

He tugged at Draco's elbow, leading him into the station. There were small changes here and there, but nothing major. They walked down the line until they reached the familiar pillar to platform Nine and Three Quarters. It was then that Harry realized he hadn't let go of Draco's arm. He was about to apologize when it also occurred to him that Draco hadn't complained.

"Shall we?" Harry asked.

But Draco hesitated.

"What's wrong?"

Draco's brow furrowed. He took half a step back, extricating himself from Harry's grip. "I have this irrational fear that I won't be able to get through."

"Of course you will. The Hogwarts Express won't be running, but I don't see why we can't get through."

"But what if I don't?" Draco turned to him. "What if I'm not welcome anymore? I want to go back to the hotel."

There wasn't anything Harry could say to assuage Draco's fears. He didn't know for a fact that Draco could get through. But he also didn't think anyone would waste their time spelling it to keep Draco out. Not when he'd been rehabilitated.

"All right. You've been out and about enough today anyway."

Luckily, the walk was only a few minutes. Harry turned on the telly when they got back to the room to pass the time. The summer Olympic Games were airing. He had been allowed to watch from time to time growing up, as Uncle Vernon thought they should cheer for Britain as a family. Harry thought perhaps Uncle Vernon thought he could magically make the British athletes win, though Vernon never actually asked.

Draco sat, mouth agape, as he watched men in what appeared to be wearing footed pyjamas tumbling and jumping to impossible heights.

"How are they doing that?" he asked. "Is this somehow a wizarding program on a Muggle device?"

Laughing, Harry said, "No. They are Muggle athletes. Most of them have been training their whole lives to be able to do that."

"Why?"

"To be Olympic champions."

"Is that a Muggle job?"

"Actually, it isn't. In fact, most Olympians spend great amounts of money to train. It's all for the glory and privilege. Very few Muggles ever get to compete, much less win a medal."

Draco nodded. "Like the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"I suppose, somewhat."

They watched for a while until Draco's lids became heavy and Harry suggested they go to sleep. With any luck, they would be meeting with Ron and Hermione in the morning.

By the time Harry got out of the loo after getting ready for bed, Draco was tucked away under the covers. Harry removed his shirt and trousers, and slipped under the sheet.

"Nox."

Even without the light on, the room wasn't completely dark. Ambient light from the window curtains illuminated the room enough for Harry to see Draco's face. He was still awake.

"Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked.

"Not bad. Just a bit fatigued."

Neither of them said anything for a while, and Harry assumed Draco had fallen asleep. But then he spoke quietly.

"Thank you."

"For supper? You paid for that." Harry chuckled.

"Not for supper. I mean for all of it."

"I should be thanking you as well."

Draco rolled to his side in order to face Harry. Harry mirrored his actions.

"You know what I mean," Draco said.

"I'm serious. You're helping me too. You're my alibi for . . ."

"My father's murder. It's all right, you can say it. I'm not going to break down this time."

Harry watched Draco's face in the darkened room. Under different circumstances, Harry could imagine the two of them whispering sweet nothings rather than talking of alibis and murder.

"I still want to thank you," Draco said. "Mainly for pretending to forget that I'm a Death Eater."

"I'm not pretending. You were never truly a Death Eater. Not in your heart."

"No, not in my heart," Draco said softly.

Before Harry could stop himself, he leaned forward and kissed Draco. It wasn't particularly long or passionate, but it couldn't be written off as accidental or platonic. Pulling back, he saw that Draco appeared somewhat dazed. Harry was certain his own expression matched.

"We should go to sleep. Uh, goodnight." Harry said quickly and turned over to his other side.

He braced himself, thinking Draco was going to ask him what the fuck that was about. Or perhaps he would hit Harry. Or, Harry dared to imagine, would Draco lean closer and kiss Harry back?

After ten or fifteen minutes, he realized none of those things were going to happen. Despite his mind racing with thoughts of regret, embarrassment and shame, Harry eventually fell sleep that night.

Not surprisingly, his dreams were about his involuntary bed partner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for reading! **

**This chapter begins the morning after Harry's impromptu kiss.**

* * *

Harry woke Tuesday morning after a fitful night's sleep. Glancing at the bedside clock, he saw that he had less than an hour until meeting with Ron and Hermione. He turned to wake Draco but the other side of the bed was empty.

He listened for sounds in the loo. Nothing.

"Damn. Where did he go?" Harry rubbed his head and yawned. "Fuck. He better not have left."

Harry jumped out of bed and dressed in the borrowed clothing from Draco. A swift Scourgify ensured he wouldn't offend anyone with body odor. Teeth were next. Then he would go out and look for Draco.

But he could be anywhere. Harry wished he had placed a trace on him. It wasn't customary once a wizard reached the age of seventeen, but the Ministry had been known to put a trace on suspects, and occasionally informants.

As Harry reached for the doorknob, Draco opened the door from the other side.

"Where have you been?" Harry demanded.

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Are you suddenly my mother?"

"What? No. I . . .I," Harry stuttered. "You're my witness. And you could be in danger. You can't go wandering alone."

"I'm wearing a hideous Glamour, remember? No one knows who I am."

"Still," grumbled Harry. "You could have left a note or something."

"Aw, did you miss me?" Draco smirked. Then his stomach rumbled. "I hope this cafe has a decent breakfast. I'm starved."

"Wait, you want to go with me?"

Harry had hoped to catch a bit of time alone with Ron. He'd crossed a line with his witness and he needed advice. Then again, he wasn't exactly looking forward to telling Ron that he was beginning to have feelings for Draco Malfoy of all people.

"I want to hear first-hand what happened to my mother." Draco interrupted Harry's thoughts.

"That's reasonable." Harry couldn't argue with that. "We should go then."

Harry grabbed his card key and led Draco down to the lobby and out the hotel. He walked them to a blind spot near the station from which they could apparate. After a short stroll, they reached the Muggle cafe ten minutes before nine.

Choosing a booth in the corner, Harry kept his eye on the front door, waiting for his friends to walk in. He could feel Draco's presence close to him. And he was certain the man was looking at him. Perhaps even staring.

Unable to ignore it, Harry turned to him. "Something on your mind?"

"Seriously?"

Harry wasn't going to get out of talking about the kiss. He sighed heavily.

"I . . . didn't behave very professionally last night. You're in my charge and I made a mistake. I apologize."

"A mistake."

"I took advantage of the circumstances." Harry could barely look him in the eye. He'd never conducted himself so poorly during his duties as an Auror.

Just as Draco drew breath to speak, Ron walked through the cafe door.

Cutting Draco off, Harry said, "They're here."

Draco snorted.

Harry waved and called his friends over.

Hesitantly, Ron walked toward them and whispered, "Harry?"

"Yes. Sit down. Hello Mione."

"Harry." She nodded. "And this is . . ."

"Draco wanted to hear about his mum first-hand."

"He could pass for my brother," Ron commented.

"Tell me about it," Draco mumbled.

Cutting to the chase, Ron leaned forward. "Harry, the longer you're on the run, the guiltier you look. Come in and we'll clear this up."

"I'm not on the run. I'm protecting my witness. I didn't kill those Death Eaters."

"I know that. But two more have been killed since Malfoy. And it appears you have had the opportunity."

"Two more? But Draco can vouch for my whereabouts for the past several days."

"I'm hardly a credible witness," Draco commented.

"Why not? Shacklebolt has exonerated you. Your testimony should be considered as reliable as anyone else's."

"He may be right, Harry," Ron said. "Some of the rumors going around are that you and Malfoy, er, Draco that is, are colluding to take down the Death Eaters."

"People think I had my own father murdered?"

Ron held up his hand. "I'm not saying I believe it. I'm not even saying that most people believe it. I'm only suggesting Harry find a way to prove his innocence without your involvement."

"The only way I can do that is to find the real murderer. Or murderers," Harry sighed.

A server came to take their breakfast orders. Though the others didn't hesitate, Draco frowned as he scrutinized the menu.

"Just order what you would normally want," Harry told him. "If you really don't like it, I'll pop to Diagon Alley to get you something else."

He noticed Hermione staring at him with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm wearing a Glamour," he whispered to her. "No one will recognize me."

"You think _that's_ what I'm questioning?"

Draco finally decided on flapjacks and fruit, and tea of course. Once the server left, he began to ask the questions he came for.

"What about my mother? Has she been arrested?"

"No," Ron told him. "Actually, she's been in protective custody since Sunday evening."

"But my mother isn't a Death Eater. She never received the Mark."

Nodding, Ron replied, "But if there was a possibility that you had your father killed . . ."

Draco scoffed.

"If you'd like, I can bring you to the safe house to stay with your mum. It's guarded 'round the clock, so you'll both be safe," Ron offered. "No criminals are housed there. It's mostly witnesses and potential victims."

Pursing his lips, Draco appeared to consider it. "You're certain my mother is safe?"

Ron nodded.

"Then I'll stay."

Harry's head whipped toward Draco. He wanted to stay with Harry? Even after Harry's indiscretion? And his complaints about being in the Muggle world?

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "You can take Ron's word as true. You'll be safe there with your mum. Safer than with me, most likely."

"But you need help proving your innocence. Besides, with rumors going around about us being murderers, the real killer is likely to get cocky and perhaps make a mistake." Draco paused. "Unless you consider me a liability because of my injury."

"What injury?" Hermione asked.

"I'm fairly certain Draco got a minor concussion when the building facade exploded."

"You should have taken him to St. Mungo's," she said.

"See?" Draco smirked.

Ignoring Draco, Harry said to Hermione. "I've been having him follow protocols for concussion treatment. Lots of rest, not too much activity. He's been healing."

"If you'd like, I can take a look at him," she proposed.

"You could talk to me, Granger," Draco said. "He' doesn't speak for me."

Hermione bit her lip. "Didn't want to offend." But it seemed she was the one offended.

Harry glanced at Draco and nodded his head toward Hermione, encouraging him to talk to her.

"Granger, I um." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I never apologized to you after the war. I was probably most cruel towards you during our time at Hogwarts. Quite frankly, I was apprehensive about approaching you. My efforts to make amends haven't been met with much regard. I do hope you'll believe me when I say I regret many of my actions."

"Harry certainly seems to believe you," she said.

"I do," Harry interjected.

She looked to Ron, who shrugged.

"Apology accepted then."

Harry was quite relived. A truce between Hermione and Draco would smooth things out in the long run. He couldn't help thinking, especially if his relationship with Draco were to grow more intimate.

Breakfast was served, and again, Draco swallowed it and his pride enough to admit it was every bit as good as meals he'd eaten in his own home cooked with magic.

While they ate, Harry and Ron discussed goings on at the Ministry, as well as the case of the vigilante killer. Being a new Auror, Ron didn't have the same sort of access to the particulars of the case. He was able to give Harry the dates and times of all the murders, so he could begin to establish his own whereabouts. The Prophet may have declared he had no alibi. But the Prophet, as usual, made assumptions that weren't necessarily the truth.

"There's one more thing I haven't told you," Harry said when their breakfast meeting was winding down. "I caught a quick glimpse of the vigilante. Ron, he or she was wearing red Auror robes."

Hermione gasped.

"Mate, are you certain?"

"As certain as I can be, given the circumstances. You must be careful not to let that information out though."

"I have to tell Shacklebolt," Ron said.

Harry shook his head. "If he's involved in any way, you could be in danger."

"If he's involved in any way, the entire Ministry is in danger. It's a chance I'll have to take. Don't worry, I won't tell him where you are," Ron said. "Not that I have any idea where you're staying."

"And you won't. Even if they try veritaserum or Legilimency, you won't be able to tell anyone. I may change our Glamours just to be safe."

"Can you make me at least a little handsome this time around?" Draco asked.

"It isn't funny, Draco. Your life could be in serious jeopardy if the wrong Auror finds out where we are."

Draco looked down at his fidgeting fingers like a scolded child.

Reaching a hand across the table for Harry, Hermione smiled. "You know Kingsley. He would never be involved in rogue murders, even if the victims are Death Eaters who have committed murder themselves. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He helped Sirius evade the Ministry because of the corruption."

Harry nodded. "You're right, of course."

"I'll only talk to Shacklebolt about you, and what you've told me," Ron assured him.

"And what about my mother?" Draco wanted to know. "If corrupt Aurors are guarding her . . ."

"I know those men personally," Ron said. "But I'll check in often to make sure everything is fine."

"Thank you."

"We should meet again in a couple of days," Harry suggested. "Perhaps Kingsley will have directives for me."

Draco gave him a pointed look.

"Um, better still, can you meet tomorrow?" Harry asked. "You can let us know how Mrs. Malfoy is doing."

"Fine. How about for supper? It'll give me time to talk to Shacklebolt and check in at the safe house."

Harry nodded. "Half-six?"

"And work on that alibi, mate."

"I will."

They parted ways without Harry getting a chance to talk to Ron about kissing Draco. Maybe that was actually for the best.

Though they took their time talking and eating, it was still only a little after ten when Harry and Draco left the cafe.

"Do you want to go back to the hotel and rest?" Harry asked Draco. If Draco was sleeping, he wouldn't be able to talk to Harry about that kiss.

"No. I feel all right." He paused. "I've noticed that our clothes, mine in particular, are different from the Muggles I've seen."

Harry watched a young man walk by wearing jeans with holes in them and spiked up hair. He and Draco appeared to be dressed in public school uniforms. Draco more so.

"Yeah, well, I thought you enjoyed dressing more formally."

"But don't we stand out? Should we purchase some Muggle clothing?"

Raising an eyebrow, Harry questioned, "_You_ want to buy Muggle clothing? Why not simply transfigure what we're already wearing?"

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on one hip. "Do you know the difference between designer clothing and transfigured clothing?"

"No."

"I'll bet Muggles do. Do you think I would be caught dead in knock-offs?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I should think you wouldn't want to be caught dead at all."

"Take me a Muggle fashion house."

"How should I know where to go?"

"Clearly you're not up on the latest trends, but surely you've at least heard of popular clothing shops."

Slightly insulted, yet knowing it was true, Harry sighed. "Let's ask somebody." He grabbed Draco's elbow and led him back into the cafe. Their server stopped, appearing surprised.

"You're back."

"Yes. I'm hoping you can help me with something." Harry smiled. "My friend here is looking to buy some new clothes, but we're not really familiar with shopping in London. Do you think you point us in the right direction?"

"Well, I like to go to Topshop. But that's only for women. You could try Primark." She gave Draco a look up and down. "Hm. Better yet, try Jermyn Street. Lots of shops to get a bespoke suit."

"Oh, he's looking for something a bit more casual. But, you know, still upscale."

She nodded as though she had Draco pegged from the start. "G-Star on Oxford Street has what you're looking for. A bit pricey if you ask me. But if you don't find anything there, there are loads of other shops."

"Thank you so much." Harry held his hand out to shake. She seemed puzzled but shook it. "And, how can we get there?"

"Oh, just take the Tube to Oxford Circus." She smiled brightly.

"You've been very helpful," Harry said.

As he nudged Draco toward the door, the man was gawking at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Draco shrugged. "You're very good with people. Interacting with them in a way that's . . . I don't know," he mumbled.

It was meant to be a compliment, Harry figured. But it was tinged with jealousy.

Harry may not have known fashion, but he could navigate the Tube. They were near Notting Hill Gate, which was just a short trip on the underground.

"Oh no." Draco stubbornly refused to go down the steps into the station.

"Why not? You said you wanted to do Muggle things. You liked the food."

"I never said I wanted to do Muggle things. I want to wear clothing that blends in. And the food was satisfactory, not spectacular."

They stood in a stalemate for a minute or two before Harry gave in.

"Fine. Let me look at the map so I can figure out where to apparate."

Smirking smugly, Draco waited for Harry to go down to look.

Harry complained to himself about Draco's willfulness. It had been many years since Harry had ridden the Tube and he was almost looking forward to it. If he thought about it, though, Draco had been fairly flexible through this whole ordeal. He tried Muggle food and was willing to wear Muggle clothes. During the meeting with Ron and Hermione, he was civil. He was more than civil. He'd apologized to Hermione–something Harry never thought he'd witness.

Most importantly, Draco hadn't brought up the kiss again. Harry decided he was happy to make accommodations for Draco if it allowed him to forget that he kissed him.

Except that Harry was the one reminding himself of that kiss. Brief as it was, he could still practically feel it on his lips.

hdhdhdhd

Leaving the shop wearing the expensive clothing he purchased, Draco looked every bit the part of trendy Muggle. The distressed jeans didn't hug Draco's hips and arse the way Harry would have preferred, but the man at the checkout seemed to appreciate them. A white polo with the collar popped and trainers completed the ensemble, along with Draco's original sport coat. To Harry, Draco even appeared to have the same bleach-blond look many men sported. Except Draco had no showing roots. And his hair didn't look like straw. Indeed, it looked as soft as a baby's arse.

"Stop it," Harry muttered.

"Pardon?"

"What? Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself." Harry blushed. "Well, we've spent so much time dressing you up, I'm hungry again. And I'd like to go back to the hotel."

He expected an argument, but Draco offered none. In fact, Draco seemed to have finally given in to his current situation and embraced Muggle ways. He even turned on the telly that night to watch more of the sport he found so fascinating. While he marveled at the strength of the men the evening before, he was in awe of the women's flexibility and grace.

When it came time for sleep, Harry anxiously waited for Draco to emerge from the loo. Harry had gone first to brush his teeth and splash water on his face. He stripped down to his loose-fitting boxer shorts and climbed under the top sheet. He was feeling a bit flushed at the prospect of getting into bed with Draco again.

Finally, Draco stepped out of the loo.

"What are _those_?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

"What?"

Draco tried to feign ignorance, but Harry caught him glancing down at the bright pink stretch trunks covering his loins.

Laughing, Draco said, "The shop assistant suggested them. I love the way they hug my arse. And my cock. Besides, it's nippy in here."

Harry blushed, turning away. "Suit yourself." He wondered if Draco was torturing him on purpose.

The former Slytherin was still giggling as he got in the other side of the bed. "Good night."

Draco pulled the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes. Harry, who didn't find the room quite as chilly left them neatly folded on his belly. He pointed his wand at the light.

"Nox."

Harry lay awake for hours, keenly aware of the man lying next to him. He found himself, once again, thankful for the larger bed. The morning's awkwardness, which was easily forgotten when there were other things to think about, became magnified in Harry's mind. Had Draco himself forgotten about Harry's indiscretion? Or was he going to bring it up again at some inopportune moment to torment Harry?

What in the bloody hell possessed Harry to kiss Draco?

Thinking about it wasn't helpful. Knowing the man was lying less than half a meter away wearing only a pair of stretch trunks wasn't helpful either. Harry could feel his cock stir and he wanted more than anything to go off to the loo to wank. That would be bad form, even if he could do it under a silencing charm.

Beside him, Draco stirred briefly and rolled from his back to his side–the side that was facing Harry.

Harry bit his lip. He could feel Draco's breath ever-so-lightly on his shoulder. Harry tried not to move as more blood rushed to his cock. It was intolerable. He thought about turning over himself, in an attempt to wake Draco enough so that he may move back over to his own side of the bed.

Instead, Draco sighed, moved a bit closer and draped his arm over Harry's belly.

Harry started to gasp but held his breath.

_Fucking hell,_ Harry thought to himself. Sure, Draco had snuggled in his sleep before. But that was before Harry had kissed him. Before Harry had lost his self-control. Nevertheless, Harry was determined to behave in a more professional manner.

He turned his head. Draco's hair was tousled and his mouth hung open slightly. He looked so peaceful. Harry had begun to relax, just a bit. It was actually quite nice to feel a warm arm around him. It had been too long since he had kept a lover. Being an Auror in training kept him far too busy to pursue a relationship.

Harry sighed softly. His hard on had begun to wane. Perhaps the situation wasn't all bad.

And then Draco's hand moved. It didn't just move, it traveled down to Harry's reawakening cock.

Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip again, trying his best not to push his hips up into Draco's hand, which he desperately wanted to do. He wondered if Draco was having an erotic dream or if he was simply used to sleeping with a lover. He hadn't even remotely considered that Draco might have a boyfriend somewhere out there.

Slowly, Draco's hand slid down Harry's shaft, then back up. Even with the fabric of his shorts between them, the delicious friction made Harry impossibly hard. Draco's hand moved again, squeezing gently. Harry knew he should stop him or wake him. But it felt_ so_ good. His toes curled as Draco's hand stroked him toward orgasm.

Harry turned to look at Draco again. The man was staring at him. Harry let out a small moan when Draco's hand movement sped up and became more purposeful. He wanted to look away, but the lustful look in Draco's eyes pinned him in place. He started to pant. He was going to cum soon.

Harry closed his eyes, arching his back. Taking in a sharp breath, he came hard as Draco milked him dry. He let out a long sigh and looked again at Draco, but his eyes were closed again.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but he had no idea what to say. Should he thank Draco? Reciprocate? Ask him why on earth he did that?

Before he came up with the right words, Draco suddenly turned around and faced the other direction. Harry lay blinking, not certain at all of what happened. Well, he knew _what_ happened. But he didn't know why. Or why Draco hadn't said a word or waited for Harry to make the next move.

While he contemplated this, Harry heard the familiar soft snores of his bed companion. He had no idea how Draco could have simply fallen asleep after wanking his former rival.

Feeling satiated and exhausted, Harry also soon fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to those reading and reviewing! **

**Narcissa Louise Snape- I hope I've thoroughly converted you! Welcome to the dark side.**

* * *

Harry hated to admit it, but he woke up feeling refreshed and ready for the day, probably for the first time since the attack on Lucius and Draco. He also woke to the smell of eggs and rashers. And if he wasn't mistaken, beans on toast. Tentatively raising his head, he saw Draco sitting at the desk with what appeared to be a Muggle newspaper in front of him.

Harry yawned widely.

"You're finally awake," Draco said, turning.

Siting up, Harry asked, "Where did you get all this food?"

"Ooh, something called room service. I picked up that phone thing and the woman told me she would send whatever I wanted."

Harry shook his head and laughed. "How did you know to do that?"

"I can read, Potter. There are directions on that card on the desk."

"Oh." Harry had no idea Draco could be so self-sufficient in the Muggle world when he needed to be. It was good to know.

Draco stood, taking his cup of tea with him. "Sit. I've already eaten. You can have this as well." He tossed Harry the newspaper.

"Are you still having trouble reading?"

"No. I just don't understand what the bloody hell those articles are talking about. Stocks, odd sport and people I've never heard of."

Harry tucked into his meal, momentarily forgetting about the night before, despite the dried patch of spunk inside his pants. The fried eggs were precisely the right consistency–just done whites with slightly runny yolks. Harry rans his fork through the egg and scooped up some beans with it. He noticed Draco had gotten him coffee rather than tea. Any other morning, Harry needed some sort of caffeine kick to get him moving. But last night, he slept like a baby.

He blushed at the reason he slept so well.

Pouring a bit of milk into his coffee, Harry tried to distract himself with his food. He pulled the newspaper closer to read up on happenings in the Muggle world. He understood more about Muggles than Draco, but there wasn't much he wanted to read about. Instead, his mind wandered.

The feel of Draco's hand on his cock. The look of lust in his eyes. And yet, Harry was puzzled by Draco actions–or rather, inactions, afterward.

"What's the plan for today then?" Draco asked, bringing Harry out of his daydreaming.

"Huh? Oh, I suppose I ought to look at the dates Ron gave me and see if I can remember where I was or what I was doing at the time. I should also go to the front desk and extend our stay another night or two."

"Good idea." Draco paused. "Do you think it was a mistake for me not to go and check on Mother in person?"

"It's not too late," Harry said. "But, really, you can trust Ron. If he said he'll keep an eye on her, he will."

"Why should he? He's got no loyalty to me."

"He's an Auror. And he's the best person I know, next to Hermione," Harry defended.

Draco shook his head. "I didn't mean to besmirch Weasley's honor. I trust him to do his job. I only question his offer to go above and beyond. Especially for a Death Eater and his mother."

"I thought we'd already established that you're no longer a Death Eater. Besides, Ron's offer may seem above and beyond, but he would do it for any important witness."

Harry knew Ron to be thorough in his Auror duties. However, he suspected Draco was right. Ron was doing _Harry_ the favor, not Draco. Keeping Harry's witness happy could only help his case.

When he was finished his breakfast, Harry took out the parchment Ron gave him listing the dates and places of all the Death Eater murders. Only a few dates stood out for Harry. He had fairly reliable alibis for two. Ron was his alibi for another date, so Harry put a question mark next to it. While he perused the list and made notes, Draco alternated hovering over his shoulder and pacing the room.

"Would you like to look at this as well?" Harry finally asked. He looked around but there was only one chair.

"It would be helpful if I need to establish my own whereabouts for those dates."

"Um." The only place they could sit together was on the bed. "Over there, I guess."

Draco sat down on the bed and crossed his legs, while Harry brought the parchment, the pad of hotel paper and a Muggle pen over.

They sat with knees just barely touching, hunched over the parchment. Once in a while their arms would brush against one another, sending a small shiver down Harry's spine. At one point, Draco pointed at a date, saying he recalled accompanying his mother to Madame Malkin's. Harry made a move to write it down, and their hands touched. He took note of how Draco didn't pull away.

They disagreed on which day of the week some of the dates occurred, but had difficulty settling their disputes. Draco couldn't recalling specific things he had done on any of the dates. And Harry noticed that more than once, Draco rubbed his forehead between his eyes.

"Why don't you take a break?" suggested Harry. "I need to go down to the lobby to pay for the room. I can ask for a calendar while I'm there."

"All right."

"How about I pick up some butties while I'm out?"

"Um . . . do you think we could . . ." Draco pointed to the menu on the desk.

Harry chuckled. "You want room service again?"

"It is convenient."

"I'll be back a bit later," Harry said. He stuck a keycard in his pocket, leaving Draco to nap alone.

Down at the front desk, Harry once again used magic to his advantage in order to conserve funds. After paying for a fine supper out, room service, regular meals and Draco's new clothing, the pair was running out of money. He booked the room for three more nights, allowing them to stay until Saturday morning for an embarrassingly low price.

"I hate to ask for something more," Harry said, "but do you know where I can find a calendar?"

"Do you need one for this month?"

"The past three months, actually."

"Oh, I can print that for you. It would be quite plain, but it'll do the job."

"Thank you very much." Harry smiled. "I'm just going to pop into the gift shop for a moment. I'll be right back."

While the desk receptionist with the purple hair printed out Harry's calendar pages, he walked into the gift shop to look around. Draco had wanted a chocolate pudding the other night, but ordered lemon pie for Harry. Harry thought he'd return the favor and get something sweet for Draco. He quickly chose a Peppermint Cream bar, a Curly Wurly, which were Harry's favorite when he was younger, and a Flake bar. Next he snatched two cans of Vimto. He wondered if Draco had ever had any of those Muggle snacks.

He paid for his few items, then went back to the front desk. The young woman with the purple hair smiled as she handed him three printed out sheets.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Harry rubbed his bottom lip with his finger. "Is there a pub nearby?"

"None that are open at this hour." She giggled.

"Oh, no, I mean for later. We may want to go out for a bit."

"You and your young man?"

"My what? Oh, no. He's not my . . . anything."

She snickered. "Oh. All right."

Harry blushed. "I just want to relax later is all."

She nodded and grinned. "Well, there are a number of places nearby. But there's a lovely bar adjacent to the restaurant here."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled and left the hotel to take a walk.

So, even though Draco had flirted with the woman with purple hair, she thought he was Harry's boyfriend. Or perhaps she thought it was one-sided, on Harry's part. Either way, Harry wasn't very good at hiding his feelings. He just needed to sort out what those feelings were.

He began to walk down Euston, vaguely taking in his surroundings. Not the best way for an Auror who was the prime suspect in a murder investigation to behave. But Harry had confidence in his Glamour-creating skills. No one knew who he really was.

Taking a turn down another road, going away from King's Cross, Harry eventually came upon a park. It seemed the perfect spot to sit and contemplate his situation. How did it get so fucked up, so quickly?

Ron would talk to Shacklebolt. Harry would come up with alibis for enough of the murders to put plenty of doubt in the minds of anyone who thought he might be guilty. They would eventually catch the real killer. Harry wasn't truly concerned with any of that.

But what was he going to do about Draco? From the moment Harry became responsible for the man, he couldn't help himself. He tried to convince himself that he was simply lonely for company, and Draco had grown into a handsome young man. But Harry knew it was more than that. It was more than the sight of Draco in his pants. It was more than not having a lover in the past six months.

Several people walked past Harry sitting on the park bench. Most paid him no mind. A young family walked by with a little girl not more than two toddling along. Her head was at the same height as Harry's as he sat hunched and leaning forward on the bench. She grinned at him, tight curls bouncing with every uncertain step. Harry smiled back, literally feeling all the muscles in his face relax out of the tense he frown he had been wearing. He hadn't even realized he'd been scowling so hard.

It felt as though he were trying to keep his emotions in check by clenching them in, and not acknowledging them.

He sat back, forcing himself to loosen up. And he allowed himself to recall his few meetings with Draco before all this business with the Death Eater murders.

_Harry sat at one of the cafes, under a bright blue umbrella enjoying a bowl of hearty soup. The weather had turned recently. Winter was on its way. But it was sunny outside, and Diagon Alley was alive with witches and wizards taking advantage of a crisp, beautiful day._

_Spooning the last of his soup into his mouth, Harry had an odd feeling of being watched. That in itself wasn't so unusual. People still came up to him to shake his hand or thank him. However, when he glanced around, he saw Draco Malfoy sitting across the Alley, his eyes fixed on Harry. _

_Malfoy was thin and pale, yet his expression appeared determined. He got up from his spot and walked to Harry. Fearing nothing from the man, Harry stayed._

_He cleared his throat. "Potter."_

"_Malfoy." Harry said back, wondering what the former Slytherin wanted. _

"_Do you mind if I sit? There's something I'd like to say."_

_Harry merely nodded. Now that Malfoy was closer, Harry could see dark circles under the delicate skin around Malfoy's eyes. He looked worn down. It seemed to take forever for Malfoy to start talking._

"_I want to thank you for your testimony."_

"_I-I only did what–_

"_I know. You simply told the truth, and not out of the kindness of your heart. I know you were compelled to testify." Malfoy paused. "But, at a time when many were lying or embellishing the facts to save themselves, you told the truth."_

"_Well, of course I did," Harry said. "You don't have to thank me for that."_

"_All right. Then how about thanking you for saving my life? And Gregory's. I don't believe I ever did that."_

_Harry blinked. Regardless of how he felt personally about Malfoy and Goyle, it hadn't been their fault Crabbe started the Fiendfyre that nearly killed them all._

_Harry opened his mouth to again tell Malfoy he didn't require his thanks. But perhaps Malfoy needed to say it anyway._

"_You're welcome," Harry said, seeming to surprise Malfoy a bit. He had to stop himself from saying that it wasn't anything someone else wouldn't have done. Harry knew how Ron felt about going back into the Fiendfyre for the pair._

_There was a new expression on Malfoy's face at that point. It was almost hopeful._

"_And perhaps I can ask one more thing of you." Malfoy bit his lip, staring down at his fidgeting fingers._

_Scratching his head, Harry asked, "What is it?"_

_Malfoy took a deep breath and looked directly into Harry's eyes. "Forgiveness."_

_For a moment, Harry thought the man might cry. His eyes glistened, though no tears fell. Harry could see that Malfoy was genuinely remorseful._

"_I understand, if not," Malfoy continued. "I realized long ago I was on the wrong side. But only recently did I come to admit, to myself mainly, that I could have made a difference if I had been brave. Like Professor Snape. And my mother. I could have passed along information I knew. I could have . . . maybe run away. I'm not saying I could have defeated the dark Lord, by any means. But I could have helped you. Instead, I made your life even more difficult."_

"_But you did help me," Harry said. "When you refused to identify me at the Manor."_

_Malfoy scoffed. "They all knew it was you. Who else would Granger and Weasley be traveling with?"_

"_It bought us time. And it was probably the best you could do at the time."_

_Malfoy shook his head. "Making excuses for me is not what I want from you. I want to take responsibility for what I did and didn't do. I'm admitting I was wrong. I want . . . to move forward."_

_Harry could think of a dozen things to say to Malfoy about why it wasn't all his fault–he was a child during most of the Second War, his parents had forced him to participate, Voldemort was the scariest motherfucker who ever lived–but that wasn't what Malfoy wanted or needed to hear._

"_I forgive you," Harry said, thinking he sounded like a pompous arse._

_Malfoy gasped softly. "Thank you. Now, I only have to ask forgiveness from the rest of the Wizarding world. Somehow, I doubt they'll all allow me to sit down for a heart-felt chat." He stood and bowed slightly, then turned away._

"_Oi, Malfoy," Harry called. "That works both ways. I did an awful lot of shite to you as well."_

_Malfoy laughed, without turning to face Harry. "I forgave you long ago, Potter," he called and kept walking._

_Harry sat a few minutes, watching Malfoy's back disappear into the crowd. He admired the way Malfoy humbled himself, which must have been a monumental thing for him to do. And if Harry was being honest, it felt good to hear thanks, and to offer Draco some of the peace he was seeking. Closure was a good thing for both of them._

Harry realized that was the day he began to think of his former rival as Draco, rather than Malfoy. So, when Harry attended the Ministry press conference during which Draco officially rejected the Death Eater and Pureblood ideals, he knew it wasn't just for show. Some of the others that day had similar words to say, but they may not have felt the weight of them as Draco did.

Harry had heard that some of his friends had comparable conversations with Draco over the six months or so between Harry's conversation and the press conference. Judging by Draco's thinner and paler appearance, many of those talks did not go as well. But Shacklebolt declared all of the former Death Eaters who humbled themselves that day no longer threats to Wizarding society, and free citizens with all the rights and privileges that go along with it.

Before leaving the Wizengamot chambers, Harry and Draco made eye contact. It was the only time even a small smile graced Draco's face. And it had gratified Harry to think he may have had a hand in putting it there.

Sitting on the park bench, Harry came to realize that perhaps his soft spot for Draco started as a pinprick to his heart back then. Being thrown together with him the last several days had busted it wide open.

Unfortunately, knowing when and how his feelings for Draco started didn't help him figure out what to do about them.

Harry sighed and got off the bench. He needed to get back to the hotel and finish working on his alibis. And he'd promised Draco room service for lunch.

hdhdhd

Draco was awake when Harry walked in. The telly was on and Draco was leaning forward, apparently captivated by what he saw.

"What are you watching?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," Draco said. "It's like a Wizarding photograph, yet . . . it's also like a drawing."

"A cartoon?" Harry asked. "Oh, not exactly. I've never seen this program before."

He sat down on the end of the bed next to Draco as they watched the bizarre photo-like drawings move jerkily across the screen.

After a minute or two, Harry said, "We should finish establishing our alibis. I got the girl at the front desk to print out July, August and September calendars for me."

Draco sighed. "Oh, all right. But I was probably home doing nothing memorable during most of the murders. My parents are my only witnesses."

"And me."

"Well, you are honest and trustworthy." Draco snickered.

"Hey that reminds me, why did you choose me to bring your father in? You could have chosen an Auror with much more experience." Harry asked the question even though Kingsley had already told him what Draco said. He wanted to hear it from the man himself.

"I didn't. I just asked for someone fair and impartial."

Harry frowned. Either Shacklebolt was mistaken or Draco didn't want Harry to know he'd chosen him. He picked up the room service menu.

"It's getting late for lunch. We should order something. Or we can wait and eat at the cafe with Ron and Hermione."

"Whatever you'd like."

Harry wasn't so certain he liked this accommodating version of Draco. He felt like he would have to comprise on something Draco wanted down the road.

"Why don't we order a penne dish to split since it's already nearly two. That'll tide us over until we meet Ron."

Draco shrugged. "I . . . what is penne again?"

"Noodles."

"Oh, right. That's fine."

Draco had been adjusting so well to Muggle life recently that Harry almost forgot that he grew up strictly wizard and wasn't exposed to the same sorts of experiences Harry was. He picked up the phone and dialed the required number for room service.

"Yes, hello, I'm in room four twenty-six. Can we get an order of penne vodka, a house salad and two bottles of water? And, um, two forks please? Yeah. Thank you."

Harry blushed, even though Draco hadn't seemed to be paying any attention. Though the pasta was a different type, sharing a plate with Draco reminded him of an old animated film in which two dogs ate a romantic spaghetti dinner together. He doubted he and Draco would end up on either end of a small piece of penne.

In fact, they were all business as they ate and finished writing their respective whereabouts down to give to Ron.

"I'm out of money," Draco announced. "Do you have any left?"

"Uh, let me see." Harry opened his wallet and counted bills. "Not much. Looks like twenty-three pounds and some coins."

Draco dipped into his pocket and pulled out his mother's diamond earrings. "We'll need to go back to that pawn shop."

"Draco, no. I'll ask Ron for a loan."

"No. I'll not have Weasley pay for my meal yet again, and ask for a loan on top of it."

"But you'll never get their worth at a pawn shop."

"Whatever the man offers will be worth my dignity. And perhaps a few more nights in the hotel . . . for safety, of course."

"Of course," Harry said. But he noticed a light blush around Draco's ears. "We have plenty of time to get to the pawn shop, then apparate to the cafe."

They Scourgified and slightly altered the color of some of their clothing to give the appearance of a broader wardrobe. Not that anyone was likely to notice.

There was a spring in Harry's step as the pair walked to the pawn shop. Draco's suggestion of staying at the hotel even longer may have been meant completely innocently. The blush said otherwise, though. Since Harry had been able to admit his feelings to himself, he found that he was actually enjoying the uncertainty of their newly forged bromance. Each of them acted coy at times, and brazen at others. The flirtatious nature of their banter and seemingly unintentional physical contact left him wanting more.

Then again, part of him wondered if it was all in his own head. Perhaps Draco was merely trying to survive an intolerable situation as best he could, and Harry was reading more into it than was there.

Either way, he didn't want it to end.

At the pawn shop, a different man from Wendell appraised Narcissa's jewels. He spent a great deal of time looking at every angle of the diamonds through his loupe.

"Where did you say these came from?"

"They belong to my mother," Draco answered. "She rarely wears them anymore. How much are they worth?"

The man looked Draco up and down. "And your mother doesn't mind if you sell them?"

"She has others," Draco answered nonchalantly. "She prefers emeralds and sapphires."

"Right," the man scoffed. He pushed the earrings back toward Draco. "I don't buy hot jewels."

Draco's brow furrowed. He touched the earrings. "What are you talking about? They feel no warmer than the table."

Letting out a laugh, the man asked Harry, "Your friend here stupid or what?"

"Stupid?" Draco snorted. "I'll have you know–

"No," Harry interrupted. "He simply can't believe you would accuse him of being a thief."

"A thief?"

Harry leaned toward Draco. "If something is referred to as hot, it means it was nicked."

Draco stood, fuming. "I am a Malfoy. My family can buy you and everyone in this room ten times over. How dare you accuse me of being a thief?"

He patted his pocket and Harry knew he was going for his wand. Harry put a hand out to stop him, then scooped up the earrings.

"If you don't want to do business with us, we'll take it elsewhere. Somewhere they won't question our integrity." Harry said it loud enough so the other patrons would hear. Several had already begun to pay attention when Draco first stood.

Suddenly, Wendell appeared. "Gentlemen, is there a problem?"

"No, not at all," Harry said. "We were about to be on our way. Your man wasn't interested in our merchandise."

"Really? Why not?" Wendell turned to the other appraiser. "The gold jewelry I purchased from these men a few days was very high quality."

"Oh, I didn't realize they were current customers."

"We aren't. Unless you apologize," Harry said to the other man. "And we do business with Wendell."

"Of course," Wendell said.

The other man mumbled an insincere apology, bowed slightly, and walked away.

"Henry hasn't been with us very long. He's still working on his customer service."

"Indeed," Draco scoffed.

Wendell gestured for them to sit. "Now then, shall we take a look at what you've brought us this time?"

Harry placed the earrings on the velvet pad on the table. He waited with Draco while Wendell examined them thoroughly. He took notes on a small pad of paper, and measured the diamonds with a curious looking instrument. After very meticulously inspecting the earrings, Wendell finally put everything down and smiled.

"Well, these are very lovely. Excellent quality. Would you happen to have an EGL or IGI certificate for the diamonds?"

"Uh, no," Draco frowned. "Is that necessary? These earrings have been passed down to my mother."

"No, not necessary. My skills in assessing jewelry are up to snuff."

"And?" Harry prompted.

"Half carat each, few minor flaws, excellent cut. I'd rate the color an F."

"As in failing?"

Wendell laughed. "No. Color of a diamond is rated basically on an alphabetically scale, beginning with D. So, F is very close to the best. Plus, these are set in platinum."

Draco tapped his fingers on the table. "How much?"

"Well, if you're certain you want to part with these . . . I can offer you . . . a grand."

Draco paused just long enough to have done the maths. "That's rather low."

Harry agreed. "Can't you go any higher?"

"Without a certificate, a customer buying these from us will have to rely on their own knowledge or have them appraised elsewhere. Plus, we have to make a profit and cover our overhead costs."

"Of course," Draco said. "But Mother has paid considerably more for comparable jewelry."

"Retail is an entirely different matter," Wendell told him. "Twelve hundred is the highest I can go."

"Fine," Draco said. He turned to Harry. "That should buy us quite a bit of . . ."

"Of what?"

"Food. Or whatever."

Harry suspected Draco wasn't really thinking of food. He was most curious what was on Draco's mind.

After trading the earrings for cash, Harry reminded Draco that they needed to get to Sal's Cafe shortly. As the pair walked to their familiar apparating spot near King's Cross, Harry couldn't stand the elephant in the room any longer.

"Draco, why did you . . . I mean, last night. You . . ." Harry blushed furiously.

"The hand job?"

Harry nearly choked. "Sh, don't say it so loudly." He paused. "But, yes. Why?"

Without looking at him, and not missing a beat, Draco answered, "You were wound up tighter than an elastic band. And you haven't been sleeping well. I thought you could use a bit of a release. No pun intended."

"I am not–" Harry frowned. "Oh. Is that all?"

"That's all."

"Right."

The rest of the way was silent. Harry didn't know what Draco was thinking about. But all _he_ could think about was the look in Draco's eyes while he was giving Harry his release. It certainly didn't seem like that was all. He wanted to press the issue but by the time they reached the cafe, Ron was already there sitting in a booth near the back.

Sitting down, Draco immediately said, "I'm paying. Order anything you'd like."

"Draco." Harry rolled his eyes.

"What? I'm trying to be nice."

Ron scoffed.

"Something wrong with that, Weasley?"

"You don't have to throw your money around. I can afford to eat out."

"I wasn't implying you couldn't. But last time, Potter and I allowed you to pick up the bill. It's common courtesy for us to pick it up this time 'round." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "I wish everyone would stop making assumptions about my motives," he grumbled.

Harry knew that comment was directed at him as much as Ron. Perhaps even more. He cleared his throat.

"Well, then, thank you. It's very kind of you to offer."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance.

"Fine. Thank you," mumbled Ron.

Harry wished his friends would be a bit more open-minded regarding Draco. He really had changed. The time Harry spent with him the past several days had been quite pleasant at times. Admittedly, Draco behaved differently when he was alone with Harry.

A server came by to take their order. Harry was pretty certain Ron simply ordered the most expensive meal on the menu. He chuckled to himself thinking it wouldn't bother Draco in the least. In fact, it probably pleased Draco that Ron was not ashamed to take advantage of his offer.

"Here." Harry handed Ron the list of his and Draco's whereabouts during as many of the dates as they could recall.

Glancing at it quickly, Ron said, "This should be enough to cast doubt on the accusations. Sit tight, Harry. Shacklebolt will sort this all out."

"I'd like to speed up the process," Draco said.

"How so?" asked Ron.

"I've been thinking that if the murderer is looking for a Death Eater to kill, why not make it easy for him?"

"I'm not following."

"I'll be your bait to lure him out."

"What? No," Harry said, a bit too loudly.

"Mate, keep it down." Ron looked around to see if anyone was paying them any mind.

"Sorry, but there's no way I'm letting you risk your life like that," Harry said to Draco. He turned to Ron. "Luring out the killer is brilliant, but it should be me."

Draco snorted. "Why you? You're not even a Death Eater."

"No, but I'm an Auror. More importantly, I'm an Auror who has seen the killer. Or, at least that's the rumor we can spread. Ron, if you leak that information and I let myself be seen around Diagon Alley and some other Wizarding places, the killer will find me. And I can catch him."

"Or be killed," Draco added.

"Better me than you."

"Hardly. You're the Chosen One. No one will miss _me_."

"It's my job. It's not your job. It's also my job to protect you. I'm not arguing about this."

Turning from Harry to address Ron, Draco said, "You can control the scene if you use me. Say, another remote area such as Ackerley. Just like my father, I can say I'm giving myself up. You can have Aurors you trust in hiding. And when he or she comes for me, you'll get them."

"And if it goes wrong?" Harry interrupted.

"I'll have to trust Weasley to do his job well. Isn't that what you advised me before?"

It annoyed Harry that Draco turned Harry's own words against him.

"There's no point arguing," Ron said. "Shacklebolt is the one who will decide what to do moving forward. We'll check out these alibis, and then I'll be in touch. You'll need to tell me the name of the hotel, though."

"Of course," Harry said.

"Have you checked in on my mother?" Draco asked.

Nodding, "She's doing well. I've charged Neville as her personal body guard."

"Neville? Longbottom?" Draco nearly choked on his food. "What is he going to do? Spout the names of herbs at someone trying to kill her?"

"Neville went through the same training as Harry and me," Ron defended. "You couldn't ask for someone more loyal or honest."

Harry put a hand on Draco's arm. "Neville will make certain nothing bad happens to her."

"I wish I had the confidence in people you have, Potter."

When they finished eating, Draco went up to the counter to pay their bill. Ron pulled Harry aside.

"What's going on?" He whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know exactly what I mean. The looks, the touches, the arguing over who is going to sacrifice himself for the other. It's not just me. Hermione noticed it as well yesterday."

Harry looked at Ron, trying his best to appear to be telling the truth.

"There's nothing going on. He's simply my witness. I'm only trying to keep him content."

Ron's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more.

"Ready?" Draco asked as he sidled up next to Harry.

"Yeah, all right."

"I'll be in touch," Ron said curtly.

Harry knew he had no right to be angry with Ron for suspecting there was something more to his relationship with Draco. After all, Ron was correct. But even the appearance of impropriety could hurt Harry's career.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to those reading and reviewing! I feel like there may be another 3 or 4 chapters, then this will be finished. It's been a nice diversion for me. Unfortunately, I've been procrastinating on other projects.**

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Harry was still a bit wound up after their supper with Ron. He was especially worried that Ron would tell Hermione his suspicions. As tenacious as she could be, she wouldn't simply drop the subject the way Ron did if she confronted Harry.

Instead of walking toward the hotel after apparating to King's Cross, Harry steered Draco toward a pub he had passed earlier in the day.

"Are you up for a pint?" he asked.

"A pint of what?"

"Ale, beer, lager, whatever you want."

"Muggle alcohol?" Draco questioned. "I've heard that's a bit stronger than butter beer."

"Surely you've had firewhisky."

"Yes, a few times."

"Come on, one Muggle ale won't do you in. I need a drink. Or two."

They stepped into the noisy pub, which was not unlike the Leaky Cauldron, except Muggle sport was playing on several tellies around the establishment. Peanut shells were strewn about the floor. People were talking and laughing, generally having a good time. Harry's spirits were lifted immediately.

"Is this all right?" He leaned very close to Draco's ear, as the noise right next to the bar made it difficult to hear.

Draco nodded, then followed Harry to one of the few empty small tables. It was a bit farther from the large telly and the cheering crowd.

"I'll be right back," Harry said.

He walked to the bar, which had a healthy crowd around it. He stepped up behind another customer and tried to catch the barmaid's eye. After serving two or three others, she got around to Harry.

"What can I get you luv?"

"Two lagers. Thanks." He flashed a grin.

"Particular brand?"

"Not feeling picky right now," Harry laughed.

"My kind of customer." She winked and turned to retrieve two bottles from a case. "Four quid," she said as she handed them over.

Harry dropped a fiver on the bar, not bothering to wait for the change. He walked to the high table where Draco was looking around the room like a tourist.

"What are they watching?" Draco asked.

"A sport called football. I supposed it's sort of like Quidditch, but all on the ground."

"That sounds boring."

"Oh, no, it isn't. I mean, it's not as complicated and dangerous as Quidditch. But for Muggles, it's quite enjoyable."

"Do you follow it?"

"No. My uncle and cousin did when I was a child, so I've watched some here and there."

"Was it difficult growing up like a Muggle when you knew you were special?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was special until I got my letter from Hogwarts. And until then, I was told I was . . ."

"What? You were told you were what?" Draco pressed.

Chuckling, Harry said, "Well, something much less than special."

"So the rumors about your childhood are true?" Draco leaned forward. "You really did live under the stairs?"

Harry nodded.

"Merlin's beard. What did you do when you realized you could do magic? Did you hex them?"

"No, of course not. You know we weren't allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts."

Draco laughed. "You must have been the only student who actually followed those rules."

Harry twisted the caps off the bottles and took a drink from his. It felt cold and refreshing going down.

"What else did your family do to you when you were young?" Draco asked.

"I don't really want to talk about that," Harry told him. "I'd rather concentrate on my life now. Go ahead," he urged Draco, "try it."

He watched as Draco first smelled it, made a face, then took a tiny sip.

"Crikey, that's awful."

"You'll get used to it."

"I doubt it. It tastes like a fekkin skunk."

Harry laughed out loud at Draco's sour face. It felt good to laugh. He hadn't done enough of that lately.

"I'll get you something different."

Harry got up and went back to the bar.

"Ready for another already?" The barmaid giggled.

"Actually, can we get a couple of ciders?"

"Sure thing. luv. Anything else? Crisps?"

"No, thank you. We're good."

He left the money on the bar again and took the new bottles back to Draco. On the way there, he was able to observe his drinking partner. He looked so handsome sitting there in the soft lighting of the pub, his grey eyes wide. Never did he ever think Draco could look innocent or unworldly. While Harry was busy admiring Draco from across the room, a woman approached his would-be paramour. The smile disappeared from Harry's face. She was moving in on his territory. He quickly moved through the mass of drunken partiers and stood before the pair. He held out one of the bottles to Draco.

"Here's your drink." He glared at the woman.

"This is Isabel," Draco said.

"Hi," Harry said curtly. "Excuse me." He squeezed past her to sit down.

"Oh, are you together?" She asked. "I have a friend over there. We could double."

"Double what?" asked Draco.

She laughed. "Double date, silly."

"I think you've misunderstood," Harry told her. "He's taken."

"He is?" Draco raised his eyebrow.

He and Harry found themselves in a staring contest. Only this time, Harry wasn't giving in.

Draco turned to the woman. "I'm afraid he's right. But it was lovely meeting you."

"Hmph. Your loss." She turned on her heel and walked away.

"I doubt that," Harry muttered. "Did you tell her your name?"

"Oh, yes. I told her I'm a wizard too." Draco snorted. "What do you take me for?"

"Sorry. We can't get friendly with any locals though. We need to stick to ourselves."

"Fine. I won't talk to anyone else. What's this?" Draco picked up a cider bottle.

"Cider. I thought you might like it better than the lager." Harry reached out and twisted off the cap.

Tentatively, Draco leaned forward and sniffed. Harry could see that he was cautiously assessing the new drink. He hadn't made a face so far, so Harry thought that was a positive. He decided to let Draco take his time, rather than urging him to try it this time.

Eventually, Draco picked up the bottle and sipped.

His eyebrows raised. "This isn't bad."

Harry grinned, feeling pretty chuffed that he made a good choice.

"You know, as much time as we've spent together the past few days, we haven't talked about much besides the case and Muggle things you don't understand," Harry said.

"So many Muggle things," Draco mumbled, then took another drink. "All right then, what would you like to talk about?"

"Well . . ." Harry wanted to know if Draco had a boyfriend he hadn't mentioned, but he figured he'd better work his way up to that one. "You have a private potions room. Do you plan on becoming an apothecary?"

"I did." Draco paused. "But that was when I was naive enough to think if I said I was sorry and renounced Death Eaters that people would forgive me."

"I forgave you."

"Then you should be my only customer."

"Hermione accepted your apology as well."

"You don't seriously believe she would trust me enough to drink one of my potions, do you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe eventually."

"When? When Hell freezes over?"

"But you won't know unless you try. What have you got to lose? Perhaps you could apprentice with someone. At the very least, you would become proficient in potion-making. At best, you could gain a reputable standing and someday open your own shop."

"When you say things like that, I can almost believe it's possible."

Draco's expression was difficult for Harry to read. He seemed hopeful, yet sad. It wasn't the first time Harry had seen that look.

The crowd at the bar cheered again. In another section of the pub, people began to sing _You'll Never Walk Alone_.

"Why are those Muggles singing? Are they all pissed?"

"Probably." Harry laughed. "But a new game is starting on that telly back there. It's an anthem. Sort of like when we all sang the Hogwarts song before the great feast occasionally."

"Well, at least these folks seem to all be singing the same tune," Draco noted.

He finished his cider, then surreptitiously eyed the other one. But Harry still noticed and pushed it toward Draco.

"You can have the other cider. I'll take your lager." Without waiting for him to respond, Harry drank from Draco's abandoned bottle. He warmed at the thought that Draco had his lips wrapped around it earlier.

"What about you? I suppose you've always wanted to be an Auror?"

"Oh, yes. Ron and I both. My ultimate goal is to be Minister of Magic someday."

"I believe you could achieve almost anything, Potter."

Harry drank again, frowning slightly. "Why do you still call me Potter?"

"It's your name."

"My name is Harry."

"I know," Draco chuckled. "But it seems to annoy you a bit that I call you Potter. It's fun to annoy you."

Harry opened his mouth to confirm that fact. Then it occurred to him that Draco didn't mean it out of malice. Perhaps it was his way of connecting with Harry. And if Harry was being honest, he kind of liked it. He felt that it was better than being treated with reserved civility, or worse, being ignored.

"And what of the rest of your hopes and dream? Married, with two children and a dog by the time you're thirty? A terraced home on the outskirts of some Muggle town?"

"Um, I haven't really thought about it," Harry said. "Although, I do live in a terraced home in Islington."

"Not champing at the bit to make the She-weasel an honest woman?"

"She-weasel. You mean Ginny? We broke up ages ago."

"Oh, I had no idea. Sorry."

"I'm not."

"That's harsh. Especially for you. She must have been heart-broken to lose The Chosen One's love."

Harry's mouth hung open. How could Draco have thought he was still with Ginny? Their break-up was very public. Rita Skeeter had outed him to the entire Wizarding world. And though it was embarrassing and humiliating for a few months, once he was out, Harry was greatly relieved.

As he downed the last of his lager, he wondered what must have been going through Draco's head all this time. He flirted. _They_ flirted. Harry kissed him. He wanked Harry. They argued over who was going to sacrifice himself for the other. And yet, Draco thought Harry was ready to propose to Ginny.

"Draco, I'm not with Ginny because I'm gay."

Draco blinked, then laughed to himself.

"What's funny?"

"All this time I thought I was playing with you. But it was you playing me."

"You were playing with me?" Harry was crestfallen.

"I was only teasing. You didn't seem to mind. But I didn't realize why. I suppose I heard some sort of rumors going on about you."

"How could you not? It was all over the papers," Harry said, cringing at the memory of Skeeter's headlines.

Draco let out a huff. "I was a little busy trying to pull my life together to pay attention to gossip."

"Yeah, it's all about you," Harry scowled. "I protected you and cared for you when you were injured. I've gone out of my way to be accommodating and make sure you're comfortable in the Muggle world. All you cared about was annoying me and taking the piss. You can't just play with people's feelings like that."

Harry surprised even himself with his tirade. He got off his stool.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, looking quite taken aback.

"To get another drink."

Harry felt like such an idiot. While he was developing feelings for Draco, thinking they had a chance at real friendship at the very least, Draco was making a fool of him. He should have known better. And worse, Ron was onto him.

He stepped up to the considerably more crowded bar once again. He wasn't even in the mood to flirt with the barmaid in order to get better service. He took a tenner out, held it up and waited.

As luck would have it, the same barmaid was available when it was his turn.

"Two more ciders?" She asked.

"Two whiskys."

"Brand?"

"I don't care. Whatever this will buy." Then he realized he was taking his anger at Draco out on her. "Please."

While he waited, he began to calm down. The more he thought about it, the more he was upset with himself. It wasn't Draco's fault, really. It wasn't _his_ fault Harry was attracted to him.

The barmaid placed two small tumblers of amber liquid on the bar. "Date not going well?"

"Uh, what?"

"You've ordered progressively stronger drinks. Needing some liquid courage?"

"More like drowning my sorrows. Is it that obvious?"

"Keep your pecker up." She grinned. "He hasn't stopped looking your way since you've been up here."

Harry turned quickly to find that she was correct. When he turned back, the barmaid winked.

"Cheers!" She picked up the note and walked away.

Harry carried the drinks carefully to the table, deciding to take a different approach with Draco. He regretted his outburst, but maybe Draco had the right idea. He was trying to make the best of a bad situation by having a bit of fun at Harry's expense. Harry needed to lighten up as well.

"Yet another drink," Draco commented.

"Whisky. Not quite the same as firewhisky, but close. You might want to take small sips."

This time, Draco didn't smell it first, he simply drank it.

"Cor, that's strong."

"Why do cows wear bells?"

"Sorry?"

"Why do cows wear bells?"

Shaking his head, Draco answered, "How the fuck should I know?"

"Because their horns don't work."

"Is that your attempt at a joke, Potter?"

Harry laughed. "Can you do better?"

"What holds a magic book together?"

"I don't know, what?"

"Spell binding."

They both laughed and downed their drinks.

"What did the wizard say to the vampire?" Draco asked. When Harry shrugged, he answered, "You suck."

Draco stood and took out his wallet. "My turn to pay."

"Wait, tell me another joke."

"How do you keep a wizard in suspense?" He paused. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

Harry watched him walk up to the bar. He fought the urge to go and help him order. _He'll figure it out_, Harry thought. Then he wondered when Draco learned to tell jokes. He tried to think of another one before Draco returned.

"Did you hear about the boy who dropped out of Hogwarts?" Harry asked as Draco placed two more tumblers on the table.

"No, what boy?"

"Yeah, turns out he couldn't _spell_."

Draco smirked. "Lame. Instead of making up terrible jokes, tell me a true funny story."

Harry proceeded to tell him the story of a library book that was spelled by Madame Pince to fart when it was overdue. Unfortunately for Harry, it began to let loose as he was chatting up Cho Chang. She ended up going with him to Madam Puddifoot's but it was awful.

Draco then told him about some of the practical jokes he played on Crabbe and Goyle when they were young. Before the boys got much bigger and better at retaliating.

By the end of the evening, they were laughing at nearly everything, having drunk lager, cider, and a few rounds of whisky. They left the pub as Harry was telling Draco about the time Ron talked dirty to Lavender right in front of Professor Trelawny.

"And then he says, _Can I look at Uranus too Lavender_? But Trelawny was so oblivious, she never caught on."

Draco stumbled on a bit of pavement sticking up, prompting Harry to catch him by the arm. They giggled at Draco's gracelessness, but Harry didn't let go as they continued walking toward the hotel.

"Who'd have thought Lavender Brown was Weasley's bum chum," Draco slurred a bit.

"Oh, I doubt he ever got that far with her. We were awfully young."

After a few moments, Draco tripped again. "Why aren't you as pissed as me? I'm certain I would fall down if you weren't holding me up."

"Because you're a lightweight," Harry chuckled. "Not that I'm a lush. But I'm used to Muggle alcohol."

When they entered the lobby, the receptionist smiled and said, "Good evening gentlemen."

She appeared a bit concerned when Draco lost his footing briefly.

"Alright?" She called.

Harry put up a hand. "Brilliant, thanks."

"I nearly went arse over tit," Draco told her.

"I see." She tried to hide her grin behind her hand. "Do you need any help with the lift?"

"I can manage," Harry assured her. He wasn't feeling more than a bit tipsy, unlike Draco. He got him into the lift and pushed the button. The doors closed, revealing a rather blurry mirrored image of them.

"We make a handsome pair," Draco slurred.

Harry thought so as well, but he dared not acknowledge that. He knew to take everything Draco said with a pinch of salt. The man was not likely to remember anything in the morning anyway. But the way he stared at Harry's reflection was making him uncomfortable. Harry was thankful when the door opened and he could get Draco into the room, and to sleep.

Harry guided Draco to the bed, took off his shoes and pushed him back gently to lie down. Assuming Draco would fall asleep instantly, Harry went into the loo. He put his glasses on the small shelf under the mirror in order to wash his face. He took his time massaging his skin, then drying off with the luxurious hotel towel. He brushed his teeth well to get the lingering taste of whisky out of his mouth.

Staring back at himself, Harry was more confused than ever regarding his feelings toward Draco. Draco admitted to playing with Harry, teasing just to get a rise out of him. Unfortunately, finding out that information didn't squelch his attraction for him. On the other hand, they had a lovely evening talking about their lighter moments at Hogwarts. Draco shared more of the goings-on in Slytherin than Harry would have expected. It had been ages since Harry loosened up, drinking and enjoying the company of another man.

By the time he came out of the loo, Harry wasn't feeling quite as light-headed as before. He was surprised to find Draco sitting on the edge of the bed, appearing completely sober.

"Hangover potion," Draco said sheepishly. "I stashed some in my pack when I was home."

"Oh. Probably for the best. You were fairly blathered."

"Thanks for getting me home, er, here, in one piece."

"My pleasure."

Draco stood. "I want to apologize."

"No need." Harry tried to walk past him, but Draco reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Yes, there is. I . . . misrepresented my intentions."

"What do you mean?"

Draco swallowed hard before answering Harry's question. "I did know about the rumors Skeeter spread. I hadn't known they were confirmed. I suppose part of me hoped they were true."

Harry froze. Was Draco saying that Harry's feelings weren't completely one-sided?

Continuing, Draco said, "It was a bit confusing. You kept saying that you were only doing your job. But then you kissed me. Then you called it a mistake. I . . . thought I'd pushed it too far when I," he cleared his throat, "touched you. So I told you there was nothing to it."

Harry silently gazed at him while he spoke. He was only a breath away.

"I had a wonderful time tonight. I wanted to keep a clear head, but I also didn't want you to think I was a tosser. I fear my actions in my drunken stupor may have lowered your opinion of me."

Harry shook his head.

"Good. Because, these past several days have shown me that you actually earned your reputation as our Gryffindor hero. You are brave and daring. And chivalrous. Even when I was a prat, you were gracious and . . . gentlemanly."

Finally, Harry found his voice. "But I lost my nerve. Not very Gryffindor of me."

"Nerve for what?" Draco breathed.

"To tell you . . ."

Rather than finish his sentence, Harry closed the narrow space between them and pressed his mouth to Draco's. When he met no resistance, he moved his lips softly and slowly. Draco tilted his head, returning the kiss with more force.

Harry felt Draco's arms wrap around his waist. His own hands went straight for Draco's hair. It was baby-soft, yet thick–exactly how he's imagined it to be.

They snogged forever, groping at one another's body. They squeezed and rubbed and frotted against each other. Harry's cock was hard, aching to be released from the confinement of his trousers. He wanted Draco's hands on it again. But this time, he wanted to be an active participant.

"Draco," he whispered. "I want you. It's been so hard to keep my hands to myself."

"Yes."

While they continued snogging, Harry untucked Draco's shirt, breaking contact only long enough to pull it over Draco's head. He swiftly removed his own shirt. Harry growled in frustration at not being able keep his mouth firmly on Draco's while he tried to take off his trousers. Giving up on doing both, he finished stripping, then moved on to the rest of Draco's clothing.

Though he'd seen Draco nude when they first were on the run, he was no less excited by the sight before him. Draco's cock was stiff and dark pink, glistening at the tip.

Harry guided Draco toward the bed and pushed him down onto it. He'd been thinking about getting inside Draco's perfect little arse all week. He was unbearably hard now that he was so close to being there. Nestling himself between Draco's legs, he gently ran a finger around his hole. Draco jumped.

"Oh, sorry. I should have warned you. And used lube." Harry found his wand and performed a spell similar to an Aguamenti. But instead of water, it produce lubrication.

"This should feel better," he said, leaning forward to try again to ready Draco for him.

Draco put a hand on Harry's chest. "Wait."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm, I'm a . . . virgin."

"Oh. Well, that's all right. I'll bottom for you." Harry started to switch their positions.

"No. I mean . . . a virgin . . . virgin."

Harry stared. It was difficult to believe anyone was still a virgin at twenty. He'd heard so many stories at Hogwarts of students on the pull. Even though he told Draco he didn't think Ron shagged Lavender up the arse, he still suspected they did it the usual way.

"And now you don't want me. I'm too inexperienced," Draco said.

"No, that's not it. But perhaps we ought to slow down a bit."

Draco sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Being honest? I'd rather you did that, than let me . . . I don't even know the consequences for shagging a witness." He lay down next to Draco. "But I bet it'd be worth it."

"Who will know what we're doing?"

Harry's brow furrowed.

"Your conscience," Draco snickered. "I suppose that's what makes you so Gryffindor."

After an awkward pause, Draco whispered, "I've already wanked you once. What's once more?"

"Are you sure?"

"I may not be ready to shag, but I definitely want to touch you again."

"I want to touch you too."

Harry reached down and began to stroke Draco–slowly at first, but he was spurred on by the moans and gasps Draco made. He rolled to his side so he could take them both in hand. He rubbed them together, squeezing up, then down. Harry watched their cocks poke through his loose fist over and over.

"Oh, Harry."

Upon hearing his name, Harry devoured Draco's mouth, exploring every bit of it with his tongue. He couldn't be arsed about any consequences he might face for getting involved with a witness or suspect in a case. Not when he heard Draco whisper his name over and over.

Suddenly, Draco gasped and moaned. Harry's hand felt warm and sticky. He was so close. Speeding up his movements, he came shortly after, panting heavily.

They lay in sweaty silence until their hearts calmed and they cooled down. Harry grabbed his wand from the side table to clean them up. Without bothering to re-dress, he pulled the covers over both of them and snuggled close to Draco.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"I think I know what it is," Draco replied. "You want to know why I've never . . ."

"I was wondering, but, it's not my business."

"I've just never had the opportunity," Draco told him. "By the time I started to explore my sexuality, I was sucked into the world of the Death Eaters. I was far too busy trying to survive to be worried about sex and love. Then, when the war was over, no one was interested in me. Not that I blame them. And I've spent the past year prostrating myself to get into the Wizarding world's good books."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. When I was on the run with Ron and Hermione, Ginny was the last thing on my mind." He chuckled. "Well, there may have been more than one reason for that."

"Why were you with her if you're gay?"

Harry sighed. "I was in denial for many years. I confused friendship for love. Probably from watching Ron and Hermione dance around their feelings for so long. I thought I should have been in love with Ginny."

"Have you ever been?" Asked Draco.

"Um . . ."

"But you've obviously had sex."

"They don't necessarily go hand in hand." Harry turned his head to look at Draco. "Do you think I'm a scrubber?"

"No." Draco paused. "Unless you tell me you'e had, say, twenty partners."

Harry laughed. "Nothing at near that. But, um, I have probably taken advantage of my fame more than I should have. I've had several one-offs."

"Anyone I know?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Right. I forgot. I haven't run into too many of those."

Draco leaned forward, kissing Harry gently. Harry happily returned it.

"We should go to sleep," Harry said.

"Mmm." Draco already sounded sleepy.

Harry pulled him closer, spooning from behind. Before long, he was deep into dreamland. It would be the first night, since they were attacked, that Harry slept the entire night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for waiting so long to post again. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

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In Harry's dream, someone off in the distance was beating a drum while he and Draco sat on the bank of the black Lake. Draco was reading poetry, but Harry could scarcely hear for the progressively louder banging of the drum.

"Answer that Potter," dream-Draco said.

"Sorry?"

Suddenly, Harry woke with a start. Someone was banging on the hotel room door.

"Shit."

He got out of bed, quickly finding his pants and putting them on. He looked through the peephole before opening the door.

"Fuck."

As soon as Harry cracked the door, Ron burst through.

"Did I wake you? It's almost ten."

"Come back to bed. I'm cold," Draco mumbled, pulling the covers up around him.

Ron glared at Harry. "Really? Get up Malfoy. I'm taking you to the Ministry."

"What? Why?" Harry asked.

"He's to give a statement, then I'm taking him to the safe house to stay with his mother. Now, Malfoy."

Draco rolled over. "Fine." He threw off the covers revealing his nude body, went to his pile of clothing, picked them up and walked into the loo.

"Fuck, Harry. I was hoping I was wrong," Ron chided.

Harry opened his mouth, but there wasn't any defense. There was no hiding the fact that he and Draco had been in bed naked.

"For Christ's sake, Harry, why did it have to be Malfoy? A witness? It could compromise your case. Or at least get you a reprimand."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Harry said.

"How? I know you're lonely. But you could have picked up some bloke in a pub. You could have even paid a prostitute, and I wouldn't have said anything. Or how about your _goddamned_ hand?"

"It isn't about sex, Ron. I think I'm falling in lo–fuck."

Harry noticed then that Draco was out of the loo. Ron did too.

"Ae you ready, Malfoy?"

Draco looked to Harry. He seemed to be hesitating. Or perhaps he was looking to Harry for guidance.

"You'll be safer away from me," Harry said.

He was only slightly disappointed that Draco didn't protest. Perhaps he understood as well as Harry their budding relationship was a hinderance in this instance.

"So, I take it Shacklebolt decide to go with my plan," Harry said. "Is that why you're taking Draco out of here?"

"Yeah. Four Aurors will be staying in the hotel for the next week. I'll let it leak that you're here and you can identify him or her. He'll show up eventually, and we'll be ready to catch 'im."

"Will you be one of the Aurors?"

Ron nodded. "I booked the room across the way."

"I feel better knowing you'll be there."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Harry. Come on, Malfoy. Shacklebolt is expecting you."

Ron began to lead Draco toward the door.

"Ron, I know I fucked up. But we don't have to tell Kingsley, do we?"

"Mate, I'm sorry. I told him I thought you were getting too close to your witness. That's why I'm taking him to the safe house."

"What if I refuse to go," Draco interrupted.

"Don't do that," Harry said. "It's for your own good. You should be with your mother. I can't imagine what she's been going through without your father or you beside her."

Draco looked as though he'd been verbally sucker-punched. Harry wondered if he had again forgotten his father was murdered. Harry figured it must have been some sort of psychological defense mechanism.

"You're right," Draco said quietly. He began to walk toward Harry, stopped, then backed toward the door. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Harry wanted more than anything to run to Draco and kiss him goodbye. He dared not while Ron was there. "You too."

"When I come back, I'll fill you in on everything," Ron said. "Expect me around two or so."

Harry only nodded. Then he watched his best mate and his new lover walk out the door.

hdhdhd

The remainder of Thursday was uneventful. Harry ordered breakfast through room-service and ate with the telly on for company. It was a poor substitute for Draco. After spending every waking and sleeping moment with him the past five days, Harry was lonelier than ever.

_Has it really only been five days?_ Harry thought. How did he get so attached to the man so quickly?

Then Harry worried that it was only the close proximity that made Draco willing to be intimate with him. Would Draco's desire for him wane while they were apart? Would Draco tell his mother about their relationship? And would Narcissa try to dissuade him from pursuing it?

All of those questions ate at Harry, but he was powerless to do anything about them.

Ron showed up at two o'clock, as promised, to brief Harry on Shacklebolt's instructions. Harry was to continue wearing the Glamour, but only for Muggles. Magical beings would see Harry for who he was. Secondly, he needed to make himself a target by spending most of his time outside the hotel room. He was to eat every meal out; no more room-service. He was also instructed to use Muggle public transportation to travel around London, and walk the city streets.

Ron gave him plenty of Muggle money, which was a good thing because he refused to take much from Draco after going to the pawn shop the second time.

The four carefully-chosen Aurors took several rooms on Harry's floor. He trusted Kingsley and Ron to choose well, and it wasn't as though Harry had never had a target on his back, but he was a bit disconcerted about purposefully allowing himself to be a killer's prey.

By the time evening came, he was bored stiff. And tired. He'd walked all around London, going from shop to shop. Occasionally, he'd spot Ron or one of the other Aurors behind him, or across the street. They were Glamoured up, but he'd met up with them earlier so he could identify them, should he need help.

He walked into the lobby and decided to eat his supper there. The restaurant hostess seated him, handing him a menu at the same time. Several minutes later, Ron and another Auror came in. They sat across the room, but Harry could still see them. Ron smiled as he talked to the other man. Harry was jealous. He missed talking to Draco. He missed learning all the little things he never knew. He even missed being teased.

Going to bed alone was the hardest part. The bed was cold. The room was too quiet without Draco's soft snores. And he dearly missed the snuggles.

Friday was similar to Thursday–mind-numbingly similar. Harry went to different sections of London, and into different shops. But the experience was equally empty. At the end of the day, Harry went to the same pub he and Draco had gone. He sat at the bar instead, though. Shortly, Ron took the empty barstool next to him.

"You shouldn't be drinking," Ron said without looking at him.

"I know. I just wanted _one_. I won't get pissed."

Ron flagged down the barmaid. "Bud, please."

"What happened to not drinking?" Harry smirked.

"It's been a long fucking day. Did you have to stop in every single shop you passed?"

"Kingsley said to make myself visible."

"I doubt our killer was lurking around a pet shop."

"You never know." Harry chuckled.

They each nursed their respective beers for a while, not speaking. Someone watching from the outside wouldn't have suspected they were best mates. It took Harry his entire beer to work up the nerve to ask Ron what he had been wanting to know since the morning before.

"So, uh, how was taking Draco to the safe house?"

"Fine." Ron downed the last few drops of his Bud.

"You really don't want to talk about it, do you?" Harry sighed. "He's different now, you know."

Ron nodded. "Maybe so. But you were supposed to be guarding him, not shagging him."

"I didn't–

Ron turned and looked at Harry for the first time since sitting down. "Don't even try to deny it. You crossed a line by getting emotionally involved."

Harry looked sufficiently scolded. "I didn't mean to."

Rubbing his hand down his face, Ron shook his head. "I know. Didn't he get on your wick, though?"

Harry laughed. "Sometimes. But he was also funny and kind. And generous. And vulnerable." He sighed. "It makes me wonder . . . we may have been good pals if we hadn't been on opposite sides of the war."

"Right. Is that what you want to be, pals?"

Harry looked away, then got off his stool. "No."

"Well, I suppose we can't help who we fall for. I just hope this doesn't come to bite you in the arse." Ron didn't move from his seat. "Rhodes is going to follow you to the hotel. See ya later."

Harry took his time on the short walk. He gave a small wave to the woman with the purple hair as he entered the lift. Just before the doors closed, he caught a glimpse of Rhodes strolling into the lobby.

Alone again in his room, Harry tried to recall more details from the night he and the Malfoys were attacked. Perhaps he had been wrong about the Auror robes. It could have been a civilian wearing red. Ron said he and Shacklebolt discussed at length the possibility of the vigilante being an Auror. Neither could come up with a suitable suspect. Then again, neither could Harry. However, even if the perpetrator wasn't an Auror, the plan was still a good one.

After his nightly routine, Harry got into bed and turned out the lights. He lay, staring at the ceiling, tired but unable to sleep. Harry felt isolated and depressed. Even knowing Ron was close by didn't help much. He feared his best friend didn't approve of his feelings for Draco. Would anyone?

Suddenly, Harry heard a noise out in the hallway. It could have been another hotel guest, but it seemed to linger outside his door. He strained to listen.

There was small creak.

Harry stealthily got out of bed and retrieved his wand. At the bottom of the doorjamb, a small sliver of light from the hall got through. A shadow moved across, then back again. The handle to the door jiggled ever so slightly. If Harry hadn't been so attuned, he may not have even noticed.

Another sound came, one that Harry couldn't identify immediately. It almost sounded as though someone was running their hand down the surface of the door.

Harry's heart pumped faster. Though he didn't want to be stuck in a hotel room waiting for an attempt on his life, he wished he felt more prepared to take on a killer. Standing there in his boxers, he probably didn't appear particularly threatening.

Then he thought he heard his name whispered. That seemed an odd thing for a murderer to do. He crept silently toward the door. The shadow hadn't moved. If Harry could make it to the peephole, he could identify the killer and alert Ron.

But when he looked, it wasn't an Auror at all. It was Draco.

Harry quickly opened the door and pulled him inside.

"What are you doing here? Was there anyone else in the hallway?" Harry whispered.

"No. Just me."

"You put yourself in danger coming here." Draco bit his lip. "I couldn't stay away. I heard what you said to Weasley."

Harry flushed. Everything had been moving so quickly between them. He wasn't certain he was ready to talk frankly about his feelings.

"I, I don't know what–

"Please don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

Harry swallowed. Draco looked so vulnerable standing in front of him. The man had been through a great deal lately. The least Harry could do was be open and honest with him.

"I didn't intend for you to hear what I was saying to Ron."

"Why not? Did you not mean it?"

"I meant what I said. Er, what I almost said. But I didn't think you'd be ready to hear it." Harry sighed. "I don't know what this is to you. Is it a fling? A momentary lapse in judgement? Something you've been wanting for years?" He chuckled nervously.

Draco fidgeted with his fingers. "Is it all right if I don't quite know yet?"

Disappointed, Harry said, "Of course." He was feeling fairly vulnerable himself. "But are you willing to carry on to see where this might go?"

Smiling, Draco asked, "Why else do you think I'm here?"

Harry grinned. "I've missed you."

"How much?"

"Much more than I would care to admit. But I can show you."

Harry took Draco's face in his hands, pulling him into a kiss. Draco's mouth tasted slightly of butter beer. He missed those soft, smooth lips. Kissing Draco was felt like a quenching rain after a drought. Harry felt revitalized, full of passion. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in the pleasure of Draco's body.

Already down to his boxers, Harry proceeded to undress Draco.

"I know you're not ready for shagging, but I can make you feel good in other ways."

Nodding, Draco said, "Yes, please."

Once Harry had removed all of their clothing, he led Draco to the bed. He lay Draco down, admiring his fair, lithe body. He hadn't the opportunity to truly examine it earlier. Beginning at Draco's feet, which were surprisingly clean and soft, Harry made his way up. Fine, pale blond hair covered Draco's legs, leading to the patch of wiry, darker hair surrounding his cock. Harry intended to work his way all the way up to Draco's mouth, but he found the cock too inviting to pass up.

Descending on the dark pink head, Harry used his tongue to swirl around it, causing Draco to gasp. Harry sucked Draco root to tip, then back down again. The moans Draco made encouraged Harry to speed up.

When Draco arched his back, Harry knew he was going to cum soon. Harry wanted very much to take himself in hand and cum with him. But he held out, hoping Draco would want to take care of that for him.

"Oh, fuck. Harry."

Suddenly Harry's mouth was filled with thick, slightly salty, slightly sweet liquid. He swallowed as more flowed into his mouth.

Beneath him, Draco writhed and moaned. When he was spent, he sighed heavily.

"That was fucking amazing. Where in Merlin's name did you learn . . ."

Harry looked up to see why Draco stopped talking.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know _anything_," Draco picked at his nails.

"That's not true," Harry snickered.

"I mean about sex. I've never had a boyfriend. Just a few groping sessions with other horny misfits."

"That's all right." Harry took one of Draco's hands. "It's not like I'm _that_ experienced either. But I could show you what I know. And the rest, maybe we could learn together."

Draco gazed into Harry's eyes. In that moment, Harry could see a future for the pair of them. Damn the consequences. He would shout from the rooftops to claim this man as his own.

Draco finally spoke. "Could you . . . tell me how to . . . do what you just did?"

Harry tried to keep from grinning. The thought of Draco's mouth on him made his already swollen cock stiffen even more. Before lying down on his back, he gave Draco a long, hard kiss.

As Draco leaned over, he hesitated.

"You're not going to hurt me," Harry said. "Unless you bite." He laughed, but Draco didn't.

"Is there a trick to it? Something I should do? Or shouldn't do?"

"Try not to use your teeth. And don't try to take too much at once. If you don't like it, stop. I enjoyed your hand very much the other night, so I'd be more than satisfied with that."

Staring at Harry's cock, Draco nodded. "I have to admit, I've been wanting to see what it's like."

He swallowed nervously, then descended.

Harry gasped at the first contact. He was so incredibly aroused that he thought Draco would barely have a chance to give it a go before he exploded.

Draco was tentative at first, but became bolder in time. Slowly bobbing up and down on Harry's cock, each time he took a bit more. The slow tease drove Harry wild, but he was glad it wasn't over too quickly, as he had feared.

"Oh, Draco, I'm going to cum soon. You might want to finish with your hand. It's a bit of a jarring experience at first to have someone cum in your mouth."

Disengaging for only a moment, Draco said, "I want to try. Just warn me."

With renewed fervor, Draco sucked and bobbed. Harry was on the edge as his pace quickened.

"Oh, now. I'm coming now." Harry gripped the sheets, attempting to keep from bucking up into Draco's mouth. "Fuck, yes."

Draco coughed and sputtered, clearly not quite prepared for Harry's load. Harry didn't mean to, but he laughed.

"I tried to warn you."

Wiping his mouth, Draco replied, "It was quite a bit more than I expected. It doesn't seem like that much when I–" He blushed.

"When you wank? We all do it. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Draco moved up and lay beside Harry. "Do you like it? The taste, I mean."

Harry shrugged. "It's not bad. I wouldn't want spunk flavored biscuits or anything. But it makes clean up easier."

"And . . . was it . . . all right? Did I do it right?"

Gently caressing Draco's cheek, Harry told him, "You were brilliant." He lay back and sighed heavily. "We should dress, just in case. But believe me, there is nothing I would rather do than lie here with you, feeling your skin on mine."

"But we have to be practical."

No sooner had they finished dressing, Harry heard a noise outside in the hall. It could have been another hotel guest coming in late from a bar. It could have been Ron or one of the other Aurors checking up on him. His instincts, however, told him it was neither of those things.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to Narcissa Louise Snape, Tony Moonstone and cassy1994 for reading and reviewing! Only two more chapters after this. I've begun posting my fanfics on AO3. Not sure if I like that site yet. But it seems like a ton of people are on it, so I thought I'd give it a try. Anybody here try it? Anyway, since I've been in Drarry mode for the past couple months, I've come up with some more story ideas. Just started writing one today, but I don't know when it'll be ready to post. **

*** I don't own the characters in the Harry Potter world, blah, blah, blah . . .**

* * *

Harry quickly doused the small side table lamp with his wand. He pulled Draco back toward him.

In a hushed voice, he said, "Hide and stay out of sight. If it's the killer, he may not even know you're here."

"No, I can help. Two against one are better odds," Draco whispered back.

"I can take care of myself. Especially if it really is another Auror, I'll know his tactics."

It was difficult to see Draco's face in the darkened room, but he reached out and held his chin.

"Draco, I've just found you. I don't want to lose you. Please do as I ask. Go on the other side of the bed and crouch down."

After a moment, and the creak of a step outside the door, Draco complied. Harry moved to the doorway of the loo, hoping to catch the intruder by surprise as he came into the room. He didn't hear an audible spell but saw the glow of Alohomora on the lock.

Harry's heart sped up as the lock clicked open. Suddenly, the light from the hall that normally came through the bottom of the door went out. Harry willed his eyes to adjust more quickly to the darkness, but he'd have to be patient. Wand at the ready, he prepared to disarm anyone that came through.

Harry's breath was shallow as he strained to listen. If he were the one breaking in, he thought he'd try to surprise whomever he was looking to kill by crouching low. He didn't know if the intruder thought of that, but Harry squatted just inside the loo doorjamb. He didn't want to kill the other person, just disarm and disable them. A Trip Jinx could be effective, but it wouldn't disarm them. Besides, Expelliarmus was Harry's go-to spell. He excelled at it. But in the dark, close quarters of his hotel room, there would be little room for error.

The door slid open noiselessly. Another nonverbal spell? Perhaps the killer cast a Muffliato on the area. No, Harry didn't hear any buzzing sound.

It seemed to take forever for the intruder to come inside the room. Harry was reluctant to engage him or her out in the hallway, for fear of being seen by or harming a Muggle.

Just then, Harry heard another sound, but this one came from inside the room. It must have been Draco. The prowler may have heard it as well, as he moved more quickly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry was quick. But the man must have anticipated Harry's move. He was also crouched low, so Harry's spell missed.

The man cast a Stupify, but Harry protected himself well. Several hexes went back and forth between them. Harry was more convinced than ever that the man was indeed an Auror. They were fairly evenly matched. Although, the cramped space didn't allow for spells to fully develop before being countered.

Disobeying Harry's request, Draco stood and blindly cast a hex at the killer. It missed but alerted the man to Draco's presence. Harry could just make out the wand being leveled at his lover.

"Draco!"

He didn't wait for Draco to protect himself. Harry directed a Shield Charm at him as the killer cast a curse at Draco.

"You protect a Death Eater? You traitor." The killer turned to Harry.

Once again, Harry cast a disarming charm, but this time it worked. A fraction of a second later, the disarmed man threw something at Harry, picked up Draco's cane from the desk and ran at Draco.

Suddenly, the door burst open. "Petrificus Totalus!"

As the man fell backward, Harry could see Ron on the other end of the hex. "Lumos. You alright, Harry?"

"I'm fine." Harry turned to Draco. "Did you get hurt?"

"He barely touched me." But Draco was pale, his pupils blown wide.

Harry went to his lover to find a small bloody wound on the side of his face. "You're bleeding."

Draco nodded slowly. "Who is that?' He pointed.

"John Dawlish," Ron responded, standing over the rigid body of their fellow Auror. "Dawlish?" Harry questioned. "Are you certain?"

"Quite." Ron pulled the hood of the man's robe back. "Rhodes, put an Anti-Disapparation jinx on him, give him an Anti-Paralysis Potion and cuff him. We need to get him to Shacklebolt straightaway."

"I need to take Draco to St. Mungo's."

Ron glanced at Draco, then back to Harry. "Yeah, all right. I'll explain to Kingsley what happened. But he'll want to debrief you as soon as possible."

"Once I know Draco is all right, I'll go to the Ministry."

Harry took Draco by the waist and disapparated.

hdhdhd

Harry stood as the Healer came through the double doors to the waiting room.

"How is he?"

Healer Cummings put up a hand. "He took a couple of hard blows to his head. The concussion is fairly severe."

"He'd been hit by falling bricks a week ago as well."

The Healer nodded. "That would explain the extent of the damage. He must not have been fully healed when he was attacked this evening."

"Will he be all right?"

"He's young and strong. And you got him here straightaway this time. I don't believe he'll suffer any permanent damage."

"Can I see him?"

"I've given him a potent Sleep Potion. He needs rest."

"Oh, all right." Harry was disappointed, but he understood.

"You look like you could use some rest as well," the Healer said. "Were you hurt? Perhaps I should give you a once over."

"No, I wasn't hurt at all. Would it be okay for me to come back to check on him later?"

"Well," the Healer scratched his head, "visiting hours have already ended." He paused, appearing a bit starstruck by Harry. "I suppose the saviour of the Wizarding world should be allowed to visit his . . . um, friend if he wishes."

"Thank you." Harry didn't often use his fame to gain favours, but in this case, he was happy to take advantage. "I'll be back."

hdhdhd

Standing in front of Shacklebolt's office door, Harry sighed heavily before knocking.

"Come in Harry."

Harry glanced about, wondering where the surveillance spell on the door was coming from. Or perhaps Shacklebolt simply knew Harry would be the only one knocking so late.

He poked his head inside.

"Sir? Ron said I should come no matter how late. Are you certain you wouldn't rather do this in the morning?"

"No. I think debriefing you now will be more conducive to a good night's sleep than letting it fester."

Harry nodded. _More conducive to whose sleep_, he wondered. His or Shacklebolt's?

"Have a seat. Mr. Weasley filled me in on the general facts. But I want details from you."

Kingsley set a self-writing quill to work as Harry began from the moment he arrived in Ackerley Town Hall. Harry told him in great detail how he and Draco escaped to Hogsmeade, then holed up in a Muggle hotel in London. He explained how Draco pawned his mother's jewelry in order for them to survive without Ministry support.

Shacklebolt not-so-subtly reminded Harry that he was without Ministry support because he failed to follow protocol.

Rather than remind Kingsley that had he done that, he and Draco would likely have been killed, Harry pushed on.

Of course, he left out the specifics about the nature of his relationship with Draco. He didn't mention any kissing or fondling. He definitely didn't disclose any near-declarations of love for his charge.

So, when he got to the part when Draco showed up to his room late that evening, Harry blushed. He couldn't think of a plausible reason for Draco to have stayed for over an hour, until the killer showed up. As an Auror on a stakeout, Harry should have immediately sent him away. Instead, he put the man in danger.

At the end of Harry's tale, Shacklebolt laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the desk. The piercing stare he gave Harry rivaled that of even the most evil of Death Eaters Harry had encountered.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add Mr. Potter?"

Biting his lip, Harry finally looked away. "Yes, sir."

Shacklebolt turned toward the quill. "Finite."

A long sigh escaped Harry's mouth. At least Shacklebolt was willing to listen to Harry's confession off the record. That didn't mean there wouldn't be consequences.

Mouth suddenly dry, Harry tried several times to begin. He cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I've behaved in a manner . . . unbecoming an Auror."

Kingsley remained silent. Harry didn't know why he was so hesitant. Ron had already voiced his suspicions regarding Harry's relationship with Draco. Shacklebolt was only waiting for Harry to confirm it himself.

"I didn't mean for it to happen. I suppose it was the unusual circumstances that brought us together. But I have grown quite fond of Draco. Quite fond."

"And you revealed your feelings to Mr. Malfoy during the course of this investigation?"

"Um," Harry swallowed, "sort of."

Kingsley's brow furrowed. "Harry, I'm trying to understand what happened between you and Mr. Malfoy. I can't help you unless you're forthright and honest with me."

"Help me with what, exactly?" Harry asked.

"Any legal action Mr. Malfoy might take. It sounds as though you took advantage of him. You know my feelings regarding Aurors getting involved with victims. Or suspects. You were in a position of authority. You know the psychological trauma victims face and how vulnerable they can be. Mr. Malfoy lost his father. Did you not understand the ramifications of him turning to you for consolation and support?"

"Was I not supposed to comfort him?"

"It depends on the manner in which you comforted him."

Harry blushed, recalling the embrace they shared while Draco cried. There was nothing sexual about it. But they were both stripped down to pants. If it had been another Auror doing the same, Harry would have thought it most inappropriate.

"Kingsley, I don't think Draco will be pressing any charges against me. I think he feels the same way about me. Actually, I'm certain of it," Harry said. "Anything that happened was consensual."

Shacklebolt rubbed his temples. "But that's what I'm trying to tell you Harry. In Malfoy's state of mind, and in these circumstances, it's not necessarily considered consensual. Have you ever heard of the term _transference_?"

"Um, maybe. What is it?"

"It's a term used to describe the psychological state of a patient who transfers their emotions toward one person to another person, particularly a caregiver. It's possible that when Malfoy lost his father, he subconsciously transferred those affections to you."

"Oh." Harry pressed his lips together. "So, you think he only went along with me, because he . . . fuck. Did I victimize him all over again?"

"I know that wasn't your intention."

Harry's brow furrowed. There were several times Draco seemed to have forgotten that his father had died. But when he remembered, he turned to Harry.

"Conversely, any affection you have for him may have resulted from your need to . . . help people."

"You mean my hero complex?" Harry scoffed.

Putting up a hand, Shacklebolt corrected Harry. "I didn't say that. I admire your desire to continue to serve the Wizarding community. You, of all people, have the right to rest on your laurels. Yet, you're still trying to make the world a better place. Your sympathy and empathy for Draco Malfoy is part of that."

"My feelings toward Draco aren't part of some need to be a hero. They started long before this case–"

"And you didn't recuse yourself when you were first assigned?"

"I didn't expect to be spending an entire week in close quarters with him. I thought it would be a simple escort, and that would be that."

Shacklebolt sighed. "This is becoming quite complicated. Legally, he could have a case against you if he felt coerced or obligated in any way."

"But he came to _me _tonight. He didn't have to. Draco was at the safe house with his mother. I thought that if he came to me, that meant he felt the same way."

Pursing his lips, Shacklebolt admitted, "He may. But that doesn't excuse your behavior. An official reprimand is going on your record. And I'm suspending you from duties for a week. I'll have to interview Mr. Malfoy myself to determine if any other action is to be taken. For now, you're dismissed. Go home and get some rest."

Harry stood. "Thank you." He started to walk out, but turned. "I'm very sorry sir. Not necessarily for what happened between me and Draco, but for the way it happened. I should have waited until the investigation was over before pursuing a relationship. I know that. It won't happen again."

"I should hope not."

After leaving Kingsley's office, Harry apparated straight to St. Mungo's. The Healer on duty wasn't quite as taken by Harry's fame as the previous one, but he reluctantly allowed Harry to visit Draco.

Draco was still sleeping when Harry walked into the dimly lit room. A small bandage on his forehead was the only indication that he had been injured.

Harry thought about what Kingsley told him about abuse of power. Had he really coerced Draco into an intimate relationship? The thought of hurting the man after all he'd been through made Harry sick to his stomach. Draco had told him he wasn't sure exactly how he felt. Harry practically obligated Draco into giving him a blow job. The man clearly was inexperienced, but Harry let it happen anyway.

Harry sat down in the chair next to Draco's bed and took Draco's hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to force you into anything you weren't ready for. I wish you would wake up so I can tell you . . . I've never been in love before, but I'm pretty certain I am now. If you tell me that you don't feel the same way, and that what we shared was only a matter of circumstances, I'll let you go. I just want you to be okay."

He kissed Draco's hand and rested his head next to it. Before long, he was in as deep a sleep as Draco.


	10. Chapter 10

**So, recently I've gotten some annoying, rather long messages in the reviews section of all my stories. Always the same–the beginning of a Drarry-bashing fic. Whatever. I can handle that. I just deleted them. **

**Then I got another one threatening to hack my account and spread my personal info. The best part is that the chicken shit who's sending the messages is doing it anonymously. So, I can't even report them or tell the motherfucking coward off. He's probably a pimply-faced, tiny-dicked teen who masturbates to Fanfiction. Again, whatever. Sorry for the rant to the rest of you. **

**On another note, I went through a different story to clean up the spelling/grammar, etc. Unfortunately, FanFiction sent notifications that there was an update, which, technically there wasn't. Now people are pissed off at me for that. **

**I'll finish this story here, but it'll probably be the last one. I've been working on a new Drarry but I'll post elsewhere. People here are just too negative toward authors who are simply trying to provide some light entertainment.**

**I do thank wholeheartedly the many kind readers who have read and reviewed over the nine years I've been here**.

* * *

Harry tried to stretch as he slowly came out of his sleep. A twinge in his neck caused him to groan. He opened his eyes to find that he was still in Draco's hospital room. His hand was still holding Draco's.

He sat up, wiping a bit of drool from his lip.

"Potter, what the hell are you doing here?"

Fuck. Harry looked up to see Shacklebolt and Ron standing in the doorway. Draco's hand gave his a squeeze, drawing his attention away from the Minister. Draco smiled softly.

Kingsley strode into the room, imposing a man as he was, causing Harry to let go of Draco's hand and stand.

"I thought I told you to go home last night," Kingsley said.

"I . . . I only meant to stay a moment to make sure Draco was all right."

"You need to leave so I can question the witness."

Harry nodded.

"He can stay," said Draco weakly.

"That would be inappropriate," Shacklebolt told him.

"Just tell the truth, Draco. Tell him the whole truth, even if you think it might hurt me. Promise me," Harry implored.

Draco solemnly nodded.

Harry left the room and sat in a chair in the hallway. Though he worried that Draco's side of their experience would be very different from his own, Harry was sincere in his desire for Draco to tell the truth. If Harry had compelled him to engage in an intimate relationship, he wanted to know. He wanted to make it right.

He was surprised when Ron joined him.

"That was quick." Harry frowned.

"Shacklebolt thought Malfoy would talk more freely if I wasn't there," Ron said.

"That's probably true."

"What did you end up telling Shacklebolt?"

"The truth," Harry said.

"All of it?"

"Yeah. Well, not at first. But then, off the record I told him about my feelings for Draco and . . . what we did." Harry leaned over, head in hands.

"Oh, shite. Did you get sacked?"

"Worse."

Pursing his lips, Ron asked, "What's worse than getting sacked?"

Harry scoffed. "Kingsley thinks I used my position to coerce Draco. He's talking to Draco to find out if he wants to press charges against me. What am I going to do? What if I did what Kingsley said, and Draco hates me for it?"

"No way. Mate, I saw the way Malfoy looked at you."

"Victims of trauma can transfer their emotions from one person to another, particularly a caregiver," Harry said, trying to recall Shacklebolt's exact words.

"Bullshit."

"No, it really is a thing," Harry said.

"I mean bullshit regarding Malfoy. This didn't _just_ happen."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean . . . I can't believe I'm going to tell you this," Ron said. He scratched his neck, then his head. He appeared to be procrastinating.

"Out with it," Harry urged.

"Fine. I always thought there was something curious about the two of you."

"Curious?"

"Something contradictory."

"Well, yeah. We fought all the time. He was a right prick to me. And to you and Hermione."

"But that's what I mean. You always fought and argued. And, at the same time, I'd notice you watching him. Or him watching you."

Harry gave him a blank stare. That was _not_ news.

"In a longing sort of way," Ron added. "You didn't look like you hated each other. You looked like you wanted to rip each other's clothes off." He blushed.

"What? No. I–"

"Mate."

Harry slumped in his chair, chuckling a bit to himself. "You know, I made fun of the way he looked back then. But it irked me something awful that I found him attractive. I hadn't been able to admit that to myself. He was a git. He was an enemy. He was a _boy_. How could I possibly think he was attractive?"

Ron laughed. "I think Hermione probably thought the exact same thing about me."

"Shite, if I looked at Draco the way you looked at Hermione, I'm sure everyone knew."

"What? I wasn't all Mooney-eyed like you two."

"Ron, you and Hermione were _literally_ the only two people who didn't know you fancied each other. Except Dumbledore. He once asked me if there was anything between me and Hermione."

"He did?"

"Yeah, it was awkward."

Just then, the click of heels came from down the hall. Harry and Ron turned to see Narcissa Malfoy coming toward them. Harry stood to greet her.

"Mr. Potter." She nodded. She barely spared a glance at Ron. "Is Draco awake?"

"Yes. Minister Shacklebolt is questioning him," Harry answered.

"Questioning him about what, precisely?"

"Me, probably. And about the attack last night. Has Draco mentioned anything about me to you?"

Narcissa looked him in the eye. "Many things."

"Oh." Harry glanced at Ron. He looked equally unsure of Narcissa's meaning. "Um, how are you holding up, Mrs. Malfoy? I'm very sorry for your loss. Is there anything I can do for you and Draco?"

"I think you've done enough, thank you." Narcissa turned and pushed the door to Draco's room open. Before stepping through, she said, "We are laying Lucius to rest the day after tomorrow."

Plopping himself down in the chair, Harry again cradled his head in his hands.

"She fucking hates me."

"You don't know that for sure. Isn't she always sort of cold and stuck-up?"

"I suppose. But I let her husband get murdered. I may have hated the bastard, but I didn't want him to die. He was turning himself in."

"I'm sure she knows it wasn't your fault. Shacklebolt will explain it." Ron paused. "But maybe you ought to give them some space, mate. Let them bury him in peace. You know what they say anyway, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Or forgetful." Harry rubbed at his sore neck. "I suppose you're right. A few days apart might make things a bit clearer for both of us."

hdhdhd

When Shacklebolt emerged from Draco's hospital room, he obviously hadn't expected Harry to still be there. The man looked frustrated.

"What do you not understand in the words, go home Harry?"

"I wanted to find out how the interview went."

"You wanted to find out if he's pressing charges."

"Is he?"

Kingsley shook his head. "He didn't admit to any sort of relationship between the two of you. As far as the Ministry is concerned, that matter is closed."

"He didn't say anything about me?"

"Just that you treated him well and saved him from Dawlish."

"Did he explain why he was in my room last night?"

Shacklebolt shrugged. "He told me he left something in there when Auror Weasley made him leave on such short notice."

Frowning, Harry wished Draco hadn't tried to protect him. On the other hand, he worried that Draco didn't own up to a relationship because he regretted it. He _needed_ to talk to Draco.

"And the reprimand?" Harry asked.

"Stays. You've admitted to getting emotionally attached to your charge. It doesn't matter that Mr. Malfoy has denied it. And you're still suspended."

"What's going to happen to Dawlish? Did he say why he did it?"

"He's going before the Wizengamot tomorrow. Aurors Rhodes and Bakersfield are taking his statement this afternoon." Kingsley paused. "He appears to have snapped. When Voldemort was in power, Dawlish had a series of misfortunes. One of which, was blindly following Imperiused leaders. He had also been injured, and relegated to desk duty. It seems he was trying to regain his reputation and grow his career when I initiated the Clemency Program for Death Eaters looking for a fresh start. Dawlish thought they had ruined his life and didn't deserve clemency. Somehow, in his mind, he thought he would be rewarded for doing away with Death Eaters rather than bring them to proper justice."

"It's ironic that he's going to get punished while Death Eaters are getting a second chance," Harry said.

"Don't forget that he tried to kill you as well."

Harry nodded. But what angered him was that Dawlish tried to kill Draco, and very nearly succeeded. He wanted so badly to go and check up on Draco. He hadn't a chance to say much to him before Shacklebolt kicked him out.

"Harry, despite the fact that Mr. Malfoy doesn't think you've behaved improperly, the Auror handbook does. Let me make myself perfectly clear. You are not to speak to Draco Malfoy before the Wizengamot has concluded Dawlish's trial. Do not visit his hospital room. Do not visit his home. Do not floo call him. Do not send him an Owl. If you see him out in public, make certain he doesn't see you."

"But what if Draco–

"Am I making myself understood?" Kingsley said, slowly and deliberately.

"Yes, sir."

Shacklebolt took a moment to glare at Harry to make his point, then turned on his heel and stomped away.

"Crikey," Ron said. "He didn't leave you any leeway. Good thing you decided to stay away from Malfoy already."

Harry chuckled. "Except that I was already second-guessing that. I need to know if he's okay."

Ron grabbed him by the upper arm. "Don't do it." "What would you do if it was Hermione?"

Ron stared at him blankly. "You're not seriously comparing my relationship with Hermione to this _thing_ with Malfoy."

"Thing? You even said yourself that you thought there was something between us back in school."

"Yeah. Lust. Wanting to fuck someone's brains out isn't the same as a deep friendship that blossoms into true love."

For a moment Harry just looked at him. Then, he laughed out loud. "What the hell happened to you?" He put a hand to Ron's forehead. "You feeling alright?"

Ron swatted the hand away. "Fuck off." He started to stalk away.

"Ron, wait," Harry called. "I was only taking the piss. I know what you and Hermione have is special. Frankly, I'm a bit jealous." He caught up to Ron as they left St. Mungo's.

Ron snorted in a way similar to the way Draco always did.

"Really. The two of you have a history filled with fond memories. All Draco and I have are ferret face and Potter stinks."

"Yeah, well, you said he's a completely different person now. If you believe that, then make new memories. Let go of the past."

Harry's brow furrowed as he smiled. "How did you get so smart?"

"Maybe I've always been smart. It's just that you and Hermione are fucking brilliant."

"Hermione maybe. If I was so brilliant I wouldn't have gotten myself in the predicament I'm in. What if Kingsley is wrong and Draco actually wants to see me? How can I stay away?"

Harry stopped short of the threshold to the exit.

"Wait, you're being awfully cool about this. Does that mean you approve?"

Ron sighed. "Like I said, I saw the way Malfoy looked at you. How can I deny you that just because it makes me a little uncomfortable. And _not_ because he's a bloke." Ron pointed at Harry. "You know that never mattered to me and Mione."

With a grin on his face, Harry continued outside. "I know."

"Hermione and I talked about it this morning. We want you to be happy. If Malfoy makes you happy, we'll try to keep an open mind."

"Brilliant. I only hope I make him happy. Otherwise, my feeling don't really matter."

hdhdhd

Two days later, Harry found himself standing in the rain watching the meager Malfoy family inter Lucius' body in the family mausoleum on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. It nearly killed him to watch as Draco once again cried in anguish over losing his father. Narcissa let a few tears loose, stoically refusing to wipe them away. She put her arm around Draco's shoulder while a couple of people Harry had never seen tossed handfuls of rose petals onto the casket.

A few inspirational words were spoken by a man Harry assumed to be a member of clergy. Then two house elves used magic to lift and slide Lucius' casket into its final resting place. One of them fastened a plaque to the wall memorializing Lucius' short existence on Earth.

Even Harry wasn't immune to the sorrow and gloom that hung over the entire estate. Though his tears were more in response to his heartbroken lover's grief, and the fact that he could not comfort him.

Under his invisibility cloak, Harry followed the mourners toward the Manor's entrance.

"Why didn't he come?" Draco asked Narcissa. "Are you certain you told him _today_?"

"Yes, dear. I cautioned you about getting your hopes up. You were living a fantasy. The reality is that we are on our own."

"But I was certain he'd come."

Harry stopped walking. He couldn't bear to listen any longer. He silently cursed Shacklebolt for keeping him away. Turning back toward the mausoleum, he took out his wand, casting a nonverbal Orchideous charm. Harry could only hope that Draco might figure out that it was Harry who left the bouquet of Lilies.

hdhdhd

"Please, Ron," Harry begged.

"No. Shacklebolt gave me the same orders," Ron answered through the floo. "Do you think he didn't realized you'd ask me to talk to Malfoy for you?"

"But he thinks I don't care. Or maybe he doesn't actually care about me. I can't even go to work to take my mind off it. I'm going stir crazy not having something to do."

"The Wizengamot is meeting again today. Rumor is, they're making a decision on Dawlish's fate."

"Thank Merlin." Harry sighed. "It's been four days. What's taken so long?"

"I heard from Rhodes that some of the Wizengamot members wanted to send him to the Janus Thickey Ward instead of Azkaban."

"Is he claiming temporary insanity?"

"I don't now if it's temporary," Ron said. "He keeps asking to speak to Minister _Fudge_. Saying he can clear everything up."

"How?"

"He thinks the old coot is still the Minister for Magic. And he says he was ordered to kill Death Eaters by Fudge." "Does anyone even know where Fudge is?" asked Harry.

Ron shrugged. "It's all fucked up. I'm no lover of Death Eaters, but I don't think Dawlish should get away with flat out murder."

By the end of the day, Shacklebolt had called Harry, Ron, Rhodes, and the other Aurors directly involved with the case into his office.

"I've just gotten word," he began, "that John Dawlish has been committed to the Janus Thickey Ward."

Several of them groaned and Kingsley put up a hand.

"He'll be evaluated there for the next month. If he's deemed insane, he'll stay. If not, he'll be sent to Azkaban."

"It took four days to come up with that?" Harry scoffed.

Shacklebolt scowled. "Dawlish is an Auror. This is a sensitive case. When the public finds out, our whole department will be under scrutiny. I may begin psychiatric evaluations on all employees of the Ministry."

"That sounds dangerously similar to the _evaluations_ Thickness performed," Ron mumbled.

"Watch yourself Mr. Weasley," Kingsley warned. "But I understand your concern. My objective is only to identify anyone who feels they need counseling. The war was difficult for most of us. And we've been so busy rebuilding and restructuring, we haven't taken the proper time to heal emotionally."

The Aurors all nodded. If it prevented someone else in the Ministry from going off the deep end, it may be worth it.

After the other Aurors left, Harry lingered in Shacklebolt's office.

"Something else I can do for you Harry?" Kingsley asked wearily. "There are still three days left on your suspension."

"I know. That's not what I wanted to ask you about though." Harry paused. "Am I allowed to talk to Draco now?"

Kingsley sighed heavily. "I suppose there really isn't anything I can do to stop you. Has he reached out to you?"

"Um, no." It was difficult for Harry to admit that perhaps Draco had decided their time together was a fling and nothing more.

"Harry," Kingsley leaned forward on his desk. "Is it possible you simply got caught up in guarding your witness? You felt protective of him, and therefor, felt a connection. The two of you spent a great deal of time together."

Scratching his head, Harry said, "The thought had crossed my mind. That very well may be the case for Draco. But my feelings haven't changed. This might sound crazy, but I feel that it's fate, the way things turned out."

"Best of luck, then." Shacklebolt's expression softened. Harry hurried out, intending to go straight to Draco. He was a bit apprehensive about going to the Manor, however. Narcissa's icy reception at their last meeting, and the words she said to Draco at the funeral led Harry to believe she didn't approve of their relationship. He'd much prefer to meet Draco without his mother. Perhaps an owl to invite Draco out somewhere would do. Then again, Harry had waited four days already. He couldn't wait another minute.

hdhdhd

A light rain had begun to fall as Harry stood outside the gate of Malfoy Manor. It was locked, of course, but there was a bell to ring. A young house elf quickly appeared just inside the gate.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Please state your business."

The elf had clearly practiced her lines well.

"My name is Harry Potter and I'd like to speak to Draco please."

The elf's eyes went wide as she gave a low bow. "Mister Harry Potter," she whispered, then was gone.

"Great." Harry sighed. He didn't know if she was in awe of him or if she was ordered to ignore him.

A moment later, she returned. With a snap of her fingers, the gate opened and the wards shimmered. "This way."

She led him up the long paved pathway to the front door. The elf opened the large, ornate door and pushed it open enough to let Harry through. When he stepped over the threshold, he was struck by the way the entrance hall had been transformed since the last time he saw it. The only time, really.

He heard the familiar clicking of heels down the hall and groaned inwardly. Narcissa probably intended to dissuade Harry from talking to Draco.

To his surprise, the pair of them arrived together. Harry was afraid to speak first. Draco appeared crestfallen. His beautiful grey eyes were bloodshot, presumably from crying. It took everything Harry had not to take him in his arms to comfort him.

"Mr. Potter." Narcissa nodded curtly. "This is an unexpected visit."

"Uh, I apologize for not Owling first. I need to speak with Draco."

Narcissa looked to her son, who currently looking at the floor. "I don't think my son is up to visitors at the moment."

"It's all right, Mother. Let Harry get it over with."

Caressing the side of his cheek, Narcissa said, "I'll be serving tea in the sitting room." As she walked away, the click of her heels seemed less irritated.

Draco glanced up at Harry, then quickly away.

"How are you and your mother holding up?" Harry asked. "Regarding your father, I mean. I truly am sorry for what happened. Dawlish will be punished. But I suppose that's not much of a consolation."

"No."

They were awkwardly silent for a few more moments.

"Is this really where you want to talk?" Harry was hoping for physical comfort at least if there was a chance the conversation would be emotionally painful.

Draco sighed. "We can go to the conservatory."

Harry followed Draco through the dining room, then down the hall, past the library and servants' quarters, and finally to the conservatory. Inside, hundreds of flowering plants and bushes in myriad colors filled the glass room. It was a bit warmer in there. And the perfume of the roses made Harry feel calmer.

Draco gestured for Harry to sit on a crushed velvet cushioned settee for two. But he took the chair opposite for himself.

"Kingsley forbade me from contacting you while Dawlish was still being interviewed. He was finally sentenced this afternoon."

"Is he going to Azkaban?"

"I'm afraid not. Yet," Harry added. "They're sending him to St. Mungo's. They believe him to be mentally ill."

"Well of course he is. What sane person goes around murdering people?"

Harry's first thought went to Voldemort, who was clearly mentally ill. He also took Draco's statement to mean that his father, though a willing Death Eater, had never committed cold-blooded murder himself.

"I keep going back to that night," Harry said. "I keep wishing I had seen Dawlish earlier. It was supposed to be a routine intake. "

"It happened so quickly. I don't know if there was anything you could have done."

"But I still wish I could have saved your father."

"Then you and I wouldn't have had to go on the run," Draco said.

"Right." Harry bit his lip. Was that Draco's way of saying he regretted getting close to Harry?

They sat quietly for a while. Harry gazed at Draco, but Draco kept his eyes on the floor. Harry was beginning to think coming to see him was a bad idea. Neither of them seemed willing to be the first to bring up their budding romance on the run. Harry stood.

"Maybe it would be best for me to leave you alone."

Harry had taken a few steps toward the door when Draco finally spoke. "Why didn't you come?"

Harry turned around. "What?"

"You didn't come to the funeral. I _needed_ you. You said you cared. But you didn't come."

"But I did."

Draco scoffed. "If you think you can claim to be hidden amongst the many mourners, you'll have to come up with a better lie."

"I was here. Well, I was at the mausoleum. Under my invisibility cloak."

Draco shook his head. "That's a terrible lie."

"It's true. There were only about seven of you, including the two house elves," Harry said.

"How did you . . ."

"I told you, I was here. Against Kingsley's orders. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to comfort you." Harry decided to be the first to declare his feelings. "I do care for you. Very much. And I need to know if you feel the same way. You didn't try to contact me."

"Weasley told me it would be in your best interest if I didn't. I assumed that meant because I'm a Death Eater."

Harry chuckled. "I think that was Ron's way of protecting me from myself. I've already gotten a reprimand and a suspension. Ron knew if you came to me, I wouldn't turn you away."

"You got in trouble because of me?"

"It was worth it. But it wasn't your fault. I should have been more patient and waited until the case was solved."

Draco stood. "So, you really do want to carry on and see where this leads?"

"Very much so. I've missed seeing you every day. I've missed your sarcasm and humor. Listening to your stories. Watching you try to fit into the Muggle world." Harry laughed.

"I think I did quite well," Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You did."

Narcissa walked in, raising an eyebrow. "I can't imagine how."

"He bought Muggle clothes," Harry told her. "And ate Muggle food. And, oh–" He pulled a pouch from his pocket and held it out for her. "I almost forgot. These are yours."

"Mine? What could you possibly have of mine?" She asked.

"What did you do?" asked Draco.

Narcissa pulled out a necklace, a bracelet and pair of earrings from the pouch.

"They sold the other necklace, so I couldn't get it back," Harry said. "I'm sorry."

"Draco darling, can you explain why Mr. Potter has my jewelry?"

Draco blushed. "I . . . _borrowed_ some of the jewels you left behind and sold them. You weren't home, and Harry and I needed money to live. He took me to a pawn shop."

Narcissa gasped. "You didn't even go to a reputable antique dealer?"

"Time was of the essence." Draco looked to Harry. "But you got them back."

"Then I suppose I should thank you." Narcissa dropped the trinkets back into the pouch. "Would you like to stay for tea?"

"Yes." Too late, Harry looked to Draco, who still hadn't actually said he wanted to carry on their relationship as well. "If it's all right with you, that is."

"Of course," he answered quietly.

"Clara," Narcissa called out. The house elf winked into existence. "Bring my tea here for service. And add two more place settings."

"Yes Mistress." The elf blinked away mid-bow.

When she returned, she had an over-sized silver tray filled with biscuits, a tall, elegant tea pot and three delicate porcelain teacups. The small elf used magic to pour out and send each cup to waiting hands. "Will there be anything else, Mistress?" She bowed low.

"Nothing for now."

Before Narcissa finished her sentence, the elf was gone.

"She's still so high-strung," Draco observed.

Harry let out a small sigh. He had really hoped to speak to Draco alone. He couldn't be expected to bare his soul in front of Draco's mother. Then again, Harry supposed Draco didn't want to do that either.

Well, was he a Gryffindor or not?

"So, um, Draco." Harry cleared his throat. "Would you, uh, like to go to supper? With me. Tonight."

"I thought you'd never ask." Draco stood. "Is now too soon?"

Harry shook his head.

Draco grabbed his hand, barely giving Harry time to put his teacup down. "Don't wait up, Mother."

They were gone in a flash.


	11. Chapter 11

**I can't believe I forgot all about this little story. I sincerely did not mean for it to go ignored for so long. Much has happened, both good and terrible, in my life since my last post. One of the good things is a self-published book called Brian and Carey. (a Y/A LGBTQ _not_ based on any of my Drarry stories) Anyway, I've taken the time to write 2 more chapters of Auror on the Run to wrap it up. Thanks to Bukwurm16 for alerting me. I have a few things on AO3, but nothing that's not posted here. In the future, if I do write anymore Fanfiction, I'll post both places. Thanks again for putting up with me.**

* * *

Harry and Draco arrived behind a pillar at King's Cross Station almost before Harry even realized they were disapparating from Malfoy Manor.

"Did you mean to bring us here?" he asked.

Still holding onto Harry's arm, Draco said, "I didn't even think. I just wanted to get us out of there."

"I'm not complaining." Harry grinned. "I suppose that means you were somewhat happy here with me, then?"

Draco nodded, but then his smile dropped. "Is that terrible of me? We were on the run from a killer, who murdered my father. But I was happy."

"You weren't happy about your father being murdered," Harry pointed out. "It wasn't the way I would have chosen to get to know you better, but I am glad for it. We both have a fair bit to feel guilty about."

"So now what?" Draco asked.

"Well, I asked you to supper. So I'm going to take you out. Would you like to go back to that restaurant you liked?"

"That Knook place?" Draco pursed his lips. "Wouldn't you rather go somewhere you're more comfortable? They don't even know how to spell Nook properly."

"It's just a gimmick to get people to remember the name. Besides, you told me they have the best ribeye. And don't you deserve the best?"

Draco took in a breath, about to speak, then smirked. "You're taking the piss."

"Actually . . ." Harry pulled him closer. "I do think you deserve the best. And I want to give it to you."

Blushing lightly, Draco asked, "Are you still talking about supper?"

"Yes. Come on." Harry paused. "But there is something I need to do first."

Draco didn't have time to ask what it was before Harry's mouth covered his own. They kissed, hard and fast at first, then slowed to tender pecks and nibbles. When they parted, Harry enjoyed the dazed look of contentment on Draco's face.

"I think I needed that as well." Draco smiled shyly, then reached for Harry's hand.

They made the short walk to the restaurant hand in hand, each grinning widely. As the restaurant came into view, Draco looked at Harry.

"You're not wearing a neck tie," Draco noted. "You're not even wearing a button-down shirt. Hold still."

Draco looked around to see if any Muggles were watching, then stealthily took out his wand. He transfigured Harry's t-shirt into a shirt and tie, and his casual coat into a blazer.

Harry glanced down. "Slytherin green?"

"I was trying to match your eyes. But nothing is quite that color, is it?" Draco said dreamily.

Sighing, Harry took back Draco's hand and led him inside the restaurant.

The host smiled. "Reservation?"

"Oh, I didn't make one," Harry said.

Looking at a paper in front of him, the host said, "Being a Tuesday, we're not terribly busy tonight. There are several tables open."

"Do you have anything somewhat private?"

"This way sirs."

They followed the host to a booth near the middle of the restaurant. It wasn't precisely private, but the back of the benches went all the way to the ceiling. Being enclosed on three sides was about as intimate as they were going to get. The host placed two menus on the table and bowed slightly.

They ordered the ribeye, which Draco said was _not_ the best he'd ever had. However, it had been very good. Harry ordered the chocolate mousse and enjoyed every moment of Draco savoring it. It brought him joy to see Draco happy and relaxed.

As they strolled the street hand in hand, they held light conversation. Neither wanted to bring up Dawlish, Lucius' murder, or the uncertainty of what was going to happen next.

Harry smiled as the went past their hotel.

"I wonder if our room is still available."

"We're not in hiding anymore. Why would you want to stay in a hotel?" Draco asked, then paused. "Oh."

"I don't want to pressure you," Harry said. "But I do miss sleeping with you."

Draco's face flushed.

"It's all right if you're not ready to . . ." Harry stopped talking as he noticed Draco's blush burn brighter. "Come on, I have an idea."

Harry tugged Draco across the street toward the station.

"Why are we going there?"

"I'm curious. Aren't you curious? I've never been on the platform except September 1st."

"Not particularly," Draco grumbled.

They found the place between platform nine and platform ten. There were Muggles milling about waiting for the next train. Some were leaned against the wall.

"We can't get through with them standing there," Draco whispered.

"We'll wait. I'm sure it won't be long."

They sat on one end of a bench, taken up by a woman and her toddler on the other end. Harry watched the Muggles talking on mobile phones or laughing with their travel mates. It was nice to be simply a face in the crowd. He felt normal.

"What are they doing?" asked Draco. "I've seen a few Muggles holding those . . . things up to their ears."

"They're talking on telephones."

"Like the one at the hotel?" Draco furrowed his brow.

"Yes, but these are wireless. They can talk to each other over long distances," Harry explained. "Sort of like a floo network, except they use satellites in space and radio waves, so they can talk from anywhere."

"Oh, like the Wizarding Wireless?"

"Yeah, sort of. But they connect to a particular person. And only that person, or phone."

Draco watched, fascinated, for a time. "Do you have one?"

"No. I prefer to talk to people in person. I'll use the floo if I have to. Here comes the train."

For a brief moment, Harry wanted to board the train, just to give Draco a new and exciting experience. He thought better of it, though. Draco might need more preparation to try Muggle transportation. He was resistant to try it earlier.

With only a few Muggles remaining, Harry cast a Confundus Charm and pulled Draco through the wall.

Draco gasped. "It worked."

"Of course it worked." Harry laughed. "Did you really think you wouldn't be able to?"

Shrugging a shoulder, Draco said, "I didn't always have the best experiences on the train. I suppose part of me didn't want to be able to get through."

They walked a little way down, realizing that there really wasn't much to see without the train and all the families there to see their children off to Hogwarts. It was eerily quiet, and not at all nostalgic as Harry thought it would be.

"By the way," Draco began, "I'm sorry I broke your nose."

Harry's hand mindlessly traveled to his face. "I forgot about that. No real harm done." He stopped walking. "I'm sorry I used Snape's spell on you."

"If we're going to begin to apologize for every wrongdoing, we'll be here for days," Draco said. "Let's agree that we are both sorry for all the despicable things we did to each other at Hogwarts. And that we're both thankful for anything nice we've ever done."

"That seems to cover the lot," Harry said. "All right. Agreed. Let's only think about moving forward from now on."

Draco nodded. "But there is one more thing. I did request you to bring in my father."

"You said you didn't."

"I know. I didn't want to appear desperate."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Desperate for what?"

"To see you again. I thought that once you took my father into custody, I'd have a reason to contact you. And perhaps . . ."

"Perhaps?" Harry prodded. "Perhaps we'd form a friendship? More?" he asked, seeing Draco's guilty expression. "To be honest, that was why I accepted the assignment."

A small gasp escaped Draco's lips. "Really?"

"Really."

Harry leaned forward and kissed Draco. With no one there to observe them, he let his hands wander over what he could reach of Draco's body. Draco responded with small moans, clutching Harry's hair. Feeling himself harden, Harry ground against the man's hip. He could feel that Draco was aroused as well.

"I want you so badly," Harry groaned. He shoved Draco up against the wall.

"Harry . . . I–" Draco gently pushed him back.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" Harry asked.

"No, not at all. It's just that . . ."

"You're not ready. You've told me that." Harry berated himself.

"It's not that. Well, it's not _just_ that. There's etiquette. Propriety."

"Right." Harry nodded. "This is neither the time nor the place. I got carried away. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. We're different. We have different ideas on how to go about this."

"I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."

Hoping he hadn't completely cocked things up, Harry took Draco's hand to lead him back to the Muggle platform. They walked about another kilometer before finding a place from which to disapparate.

Harry left Draco at his gate with a kiss and a promise to get together the next day.

hdhdhd

Wednesday and Thursday found Harry and Draco together at Grimmauld Place. Harry had invited Draco for supper and drinks. And though Draco wasn't prepared to lose his virginity quite yet, he and Harry found other ways to satisfy their lust for one another.

Harry straddled Draco's lap, both cocks in hand. He wanted to kiss Draco while he stroked them off. But Draco wanted to watch. He'd never been in a position to wank with another man before Harry, and Harry couldn't deny him the pleasure.

As the tips of their cocks slowly poked through Harry's loose fist, he admitted it was an erotic sight. Harry's slightly smaller, darker head next to Draco's pink, perfect mushroom was better than any porn he'd ever seen. Draco's attempts to control his breathy moans drove Harry crazy with desire.

"Fuck." Draco licked his lips. He covered Harry's hand with his own, urging him to move faster. "I'm going to cum. Oh Harry."

Harry obliged.

Draco's head and hands fell back as he arched his back. "Yes. Fuck."

The skin on Draco's chest bloomed pink. His mouth hung open, as though he had forgotten how to speak or think. Or even breathe.

Harry's hand sped up even faster. He wanted them to cum together. Or as close to it as possible.

Suddenly, Draco lifted his head, his eyes trained on their cocks. He gasped, spurting all over his own chest. He gripped Harry's bicep hard. Harry leaned forward, shooting out his load to match Draco's, his cry of Draco's name accompanying it.

For long minutes after, they remained still, waning cocks still in Harry's hand.

Draco had never looked better, in Harry's opinion, than he did covered in congealing jizz.

"Better than it would have been in the train station." Harry laughed.

The blush traveled up to Draco's face. "But no more proper."

"Proper is for young ladies in Jane Austen novels."

Harry got up to retrieve his wand. He cast a quick Scourgify on them both, then handed Draco his clothing.

"Are you sorry we've done this?"

"No. Not sorry. I _wanted_ to," Draco assured him. "You make me lose my head sometimes."

Harry pursed his lips. He wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.

"I promise. I did want to do that. You didn't force me in any way at all."

"All right. If you're certain."

Once they were dressed, Draco told Harry he needed to go back to the Manor. His mother would not appreciate him being out all hours of the evening.

Harry was glad he didn't have to answer to anyone regarding his comings and goings. No pun intended.

They agreed to meet the next day, Friday. Draco would owl Harry for supper.

After Draco left, Harry poured himself a glass of wine he had found in Sirius' cellar. It was a taste he'd have to grow to like. But it relaxed him before bed sometimes, when he would sit and watch the fire and listen to music on the wireless.

That night, however, he couldn't get the picture of Draco sprawled out beneath him in the throes of passion, cumming all over himself.

"Fuck it." Harry put down the glass, unzipped his trousers and wanked himself again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Here is the last chapter of this story. I apologize again for drawing it out so long.**

**Thanks to godric1, Tony Moonstone, AlyssaOtaku69, and Lucileec for reading and reviewing the last chapter. And thanks to everyone who has been reading my stories for the past 10 years. Drarry forever! **

* * *

Harry had been expecting to receive Draco's owl all day. He'd distracted himself with chores that had been neglected while he was on the run. It was the last day of suspension for Harry, thank Merlin. He was going stir crazy. Monday, he could go back to work, but there would be loads of paperwork. There was always paperwork.

The floo whooshed, and Harry ran to it, expecting it to be Draco.

"Plans?" Ron appeared just after his workday ended. "We could go to the Leaky cauldron for a beer. They've started carrying Muggle brands. Did you know?"

"Hi Ron," Harry said without enthusiasm. "No, I didn't. But I'm supposed to go to supper with Draco."

"What's wrong? Not sick of 'im already, are you?"

"No. He said he would owl me." Harry waved a hand in the air. "Maybe his mother has him running some sort of errand."

"Why don't you owl him, then?"

"I don't want to smother him. I need to show more patience with him."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Are you moving a bit too quickly for him?"

"I didn't say that." Harry hesitated. "But, yes. He's never had a boyfriend. Or even–"

"Even what?" Ron sat up straighter. "Never mind. I get the picture."

"He's not a prude. He just says we have different ideas about relationships." "Uh oh."

"No, not uh oh. We're fine. He just . . . forgot to owl me."

It took everything Harry had not to go to Malfoy Manor to find out why Draco hadn't owled him. That wouldn't have been very fair to Draco. Especially if he was wishing to avoid Harry for any reason.

Harry put off Ron and ended up eating leftovers of the last meal he shared with Draco. Harry thought again about the night before. Draco was definitely a willing partner. He allowed Harry to do all the things he did. He even encouraged Harry to wank him faster. No, Harry didn't think Draco was having second thoughts, which made it more puzzling that he hadn't heard from the man.

Harry went to bed early after a quiet evening reading. He wanted to be up at stupid o'clock on Saturday in case Draco sent an early owl.

hdhdhd

By noon on Saturday, Harry was losing the patience he promised he would have for Draco. He sent an owl with a quick, lighthearted note. He didn't want to come across as angry until he knew why he had been deserted.

When he received no reply half an hour later, Harry decided to go to the Manor. Propriety be damned.

Harry sensed something was wrong the moment he stepped up to the gate. It wasn't quite latched shut. He pushed one side open, his awareness heightened. The air was still, carrying no sound from the house. Harry heard no sound from anywhere. Not even birds sang nearby.

Careful not to make noise of his own, Harry crept up to the large front door. He could only hope it didn't squeak and creak when he opened it. _If_ he would be able to open it.

Luck was on his side. Though closed, the door was unlocked. Harry gave a tentative push. A small grind against the doorjamb was the only resistance as he pressed just enough to let his body through the opening.

He stood in the vast foyer, listening. He dared not call out for Draco and give away his only advantage of surprise. As he stepped across toward the dining area, heard what sounded like muffled sobs. His heart sped up as he tried to determine the direction from which the sounds came. Silently, with wand in hand, he followed the noises until he came upon a cabinet in the kitchen.

Harry couldn't tell for certain, but it sounded like a child whimpering. He pulled open the cabinet door holding his wand at the ready. Clara was rolled up in a ball sobbing quietly.

"Clara, what are you doing? What's happened?" Harry whispered.

"Masters. He's taken them."

"Someone took your Masters? Where? Are they still in the house?"

"Clara thinks yes. Clara supposes they are in the dungeons."

"Why didn't you get help?" Harry asked.

"Masters didn't tell Clara to get help. Clara didn't know what to do."

"Can you go get help now?" Clara bit her lip.

"I know I'm not your Master, but I'm telling you to go to the Ministry for help. It's what Master Draco would want you to do. I will take full responsibility for your actions."

Clara shook her head. "Oh, no, not the Ministry. No house elf chooses to go to the Ministry."

"Right," Harry said. "Why would you? They've allowed you to be mistreated by your Masters." Harry thought. "Then go to Ron Weasley. He's an– he's my friend. And Master Draco's friend. Go tell him what's happened and that I need help to save your Masters."

Clara looked beside herself. She needn't follow Harry's orders. The elf hesitated.

"Please Clara. If you do this for me, I will be indebted to you. I will see to it your Masters reward you well."

He wasn't sure if that would be a motivator for the elf. Some of them seemed to covet shiny objects, while others performed their duties out of honor. He would threaten her if he had to. But he hoped she would choose to help on her own.

"Please," he implored again. "My friend Dobby chose to help me even though he served the Malfoys at the time. You can choose to do the same."

At that, Clara straightened herself up. "Clara will follow Dobby's example. Clara will help Mister Harry Potter."

He gave her the address to Ron's flat and told her what to say. With any luck, he'd have back-up soon. But he couldn't wait. He had to find Draco and his mother before it was too late.

Making his way through the mansion, Harry searched for the door that lead to the dungeon stairs.

Suddenly a scream pierced the silence. Harry turned. He heard a shout, a male voice, and that helped him hone in on their location. And then a laugh. An evil laugh.

Harry had finally found the right door. It did not open silently. He winced, attempting to descend the stairs stealthily. He thought to set a Muffliato too late. He'd been found out due to his haste.

"Is that you, Harry Potter?" a voice from below called. "Come down. But know I have my wand trained on your lover. So don't try anything. In fact, toss your wand down the stairs first."

Harry sighed. He had no choice.

"No Harry, stay back," Draco called out.

"Shut up!"

Harry heard the sound of flesh slapping flesh. He tossed his wand and flew down the stairs.

"You won't get away with this," Harry said. "Everyone will know it was you. Even if you kill us all and disappear."

"Well, then I'll just have to be thorough, won't I?" Dawlish grinned. "Perhaps they'll find a wand left behind. They'll do a Prior Incantato and find that," he gasped, "Auror Smith performed the killing curse. They had the wrong man at St. Mungo's after all. They'll find me, bound and gagged, just in time of course. Auror Smith will go to Azkaban and I will claim to be under his Imperius spell. If it worked for Death Eaters, surely that defense will work for me. Of course, I'll have to be a bit more subtle about ridding the world of Death Eaters after this. Merlin knows why anyone would want to stop me in the first place."

"It's not for you to decide," Harry said. "You were supposed to be upholding the law, not breaking it. It's for the Wizengamot to decide the Death Eaters' fates."

With his wand aimed at Harry, Dawlish moved to pick up Harry's discarded wand.

"Or, even better." Dawlish could hardly contain his glee. "It turns out that Harry Potter is the true mastermind behind the Death Eater killings. I wonder how it would feel to know that your wand is going to be the one to end the Malfoy line. I truly can't decide which one of you I want to make watch the other die." He laughed.

Harry looked to Draco. He was clapped in irons and chained to the wall. Narcissa was separated from him, in the same state. They were both wide-eyed with fear, shaking from the chill and filthy.

"I'm not going to let him kill you," Harry said.

"There's nothing you can do, Potter. I've got your wand. I've got your hostages. And I've got no qualms about killing any of you. I suspect you don't have the stomach for murder."

Harry scowled at Dawlish. He'd prove him wrong if had to. He took a deep breath, centered his thoughts and whispered, "Confundus."

Dawlish shook his head, and before he could act, Harry had taken back his wand.

Harry hadn't been quick enough to grab the wand from Dawlish's other hand. They came out of the confusion with wands pointed at one another in stalemate.

"Put down your wand, John," Harry said. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

Dawlish scoffed. 'The only thing that's worse is slags like these two walking free."

"There's no way out. I won't let you hurt them. I will kill you if I have to."

"You haven't got the bollocks."

"Harry don't!" Draco cried. "He's not worth it. I would rather die than see you go to prison defending us."

"I can arrange that." Dawlish laughed, pointing his wand at Draco.

Harry had less than a split second to react. "Avada Ked–"

"Expelliarmus!"

Dawlish's wand flew from his hand. "What the fuck?"

"John Dawlish, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Draco and Narcissa Malfoy. And terroristic threats against the Ministry." Ron slowly walked down the rest of the staircase.

No one had noticed him or Neville enter the dungeons with Clara close behind.

While Neville handcuffed the rogue Auror and placed an anti-apparation spell on him, Ron asked Harry, "You all right, mate?"

Harry nodded, but dropped his wand and ran to Draco. "You're bleeding. Again." He ran his hands over Draco's face and body to check for injury.

"I'm fine," Draco said.

"That man hit him," Narcissa said. She remained composed for a moment, then broke down in tears.

"Mother."

As soon as Ron released Draco's cuffs, Harry moved to hug him. But Draco nudged him away and ran to his mother instead. Harry stood.

"She's his mum," Ron said softly. "Any man worth his salt is going to put his mum over anybody else."

Harry nodded. "I know."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't care about you."

"I know," Harry replied, irritated. "How the fuck did Dawlish escape?"

"We only had one Auror guarding him at the time. The second was running late. Smith wasn't there when Bigby showed up," Ron explained. "He stood there for hours before he realized it wasn't Dawlish in the bed, but a pile of blankets."

"Fucking hell. Didn't he wonder where Smith was?"

"It was overnight hours. He figured one Auror was enough." Ron paused. "Smith hasn't been found yet."

"Shit."

"Everyone thought Dawlish was looney. I guess it was just an act to avoid Azkaban."

"I _told_ Draco to fortify the wards."

"Don't be too hard on 'im. We all thought it was safe," Ron said.

Harry turned to Clara. "Thank you. You've done very well for your Masters."

The little elf bowed low, then backed away.

"Brilliant move, sending her to me. How did you manage to convince her?" Ron asked.

Harry smiled, "I told her to be like Dobby. And I may have promised a reward."

They watched Dawlish thrash about the floor, muttering death threats against Neville and everyone in the Ministry.

Ron turned to Harry, a serious expression on his face. "Harry, if we hadn't shown up when we did . . . you've already been reprimanded and suspended over this case. _You_ could have gone to prison."

"I don't know what you mean."

Ron stared a moment. "Yeah, I don't either," he said eventually.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Apparently, Ron had heard Harry about to deliver a lethal curse. Harry knew he wasn't in immediate danger. He had the situation relatively under control. Dawlish wasn't thinking clearly. Then again, perhaps Harry wasn't either. He was willing to do anything and everything to protect Draco.

Neville approached the pair after securing Dawlish. "Good thing we interrupted you casting the killing curse. You could have gotten into some trouble Harry."

Ron rolled his eyes and smacked his own forehead. "I think you misheard, Neville."

"No, I'm pretty sure–"

"You misheard," Ron repeated.

Neville glanced around at the others, who were all watching him back. "Right. Clearly, I misheard."

"I heard you!" Dawlish shouted. "I'll tell. You won't get away with it Potter."

Harry walked over to Dawlish, bound and lying on the cold cellar floor. "You can tell them whatever you want. You won't talk your way out of prison this time. You're a traitor to your profession."

"Neville and I will take this scum back to the Ministry. Why don't you take the Malfoys to St. Mungo's to get checked out. Shacklebolt will send an Auror around to take their statements, probably tomorrow," Ron said.

Nodding, Harry agreed.

"I'm not injured," Narcissa insisted after Ron and Neville left. "But Draco . . ."

"I think perhaps Draco would feel much better if you accompanied him to hospital. You've been through quite a bit the past few weeks. Let them make sure you're all right."

"Aren't you coming?" Draco asked.

Smiling, Harry replied, "Of course."

The cut on Draco's cheek was superficial and the mediwitch declared him fit, with a few small bruises. Narcissa had admitted to feeling to stress and anxiety of her husband's murder, her son going missing, and being held captive by an angry Auror out for revenge. She was kept overnight for observation, with an appointment for counseling in the morning.

"You should probably see a counselor too, Draco," Harry suggested.

"I'm fine." He paused as Harry gave him a stern look. "All right, I'm not _fine_. But I have you to lean on. Mother doesn't." He yawned widely.

"You need rest," Harry told him.

Yawning again, Draco said, "I am exhausted. I don't even know how long we were in the dungeons. I think I could sleep for three days. Would you . . . would you, stay with me?"

"_You're_ going to stay with _me_. I'm not letting you go back to the Manor until I'm convinced the wards are impenetrable."

hdhdhd

Draco didn't sleep for three days, but he did sleep over twelve hours. And Harry had watched him practically the whole time. By the time the sun began to rise, Harry could no longer stay awake.

When he did finally awaken, he found an arm wrapped tightly around his chest. Draco's body spooned his. And Harry was reminded of the better times the pair of them were on the run. He should like to wake up that way every morning, he thought.

A few minutes later, Draco stirred. His snores turned to sighs as he tightened his grip on Harry.

"Morning."

"Morning." Harry could hear the smile in his own voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Content."

Harry turned in Draco's embrace. "Content? I was talking more about your physical well-being."

"Oh. I told you yesterday that I'm fine."

"I know. I just worry about you."

Draco gave him a sleepy grin. "And that's why I'm content."

Tenderly brushing the hair from Draco's eyes, Harry said, "You've been through an awful lot recently."

"I miss my father. I don't know if I could have said that a year ago." Draco glanced at Harry, then quickly away. "You think I'm horrid."

"No. But I am wondering why you would say that."

Draco sighed. "It took a lot of convincing to get Father to turn himself over to the Ministry. He was perfectly willing to stay in hiding, letting Mother and I take all the pressure and scrutiny from the Ministry. If he had only done the right thing from the beginning . . ."

"Turn himself in right away?"

Draco scoffed. "I meant not become a Death Eater in the first damn place. But yes, if he had turned himself in right away, or even if he simply stopped dealing in Dark artefacts, he may still be alive."

"Dawlsh didn't seem to care whether or not the wizards he was killing had renounced the ways of Voldemort," Harry reminded him. "You tried to keep your father safe. I'm so sorry it turned out the way it did."

"At least Father and I came to a better understanding before it was too late. We fought terribly once the war was over. He didn't like the idea of me prostrating myself at the mercy of the Ministry. He thought I broke because I was weak."

"You're not weak. You are extremely resilient. Every time you came upon an obstacle while we were on the run, you rose to the occasion with grace. You didn't break, you bent, and came out of it stronger than the forces against you."

Draco laughed. "You make me sound much too heroic." He leaned forward placing a chaste kiss on Harry's lips. "I didn't crumple because you were holding me up. At times, physically. And for that, I can't begin to thank you."

"You don't need to. The reward was getting to know you. The real, unabridged version."

"Yes. And for some reason you're still with me."

"Well, yeah, I'm your boyfriend, innit?"

"Boyfriend?" Draco whispered.

They stared into one another's eyes. Harry's heart ached with longing. He had to hold himself back from making declarations and claiming Draco's body for his own. His cock twitched. Words sat on the tip of his tongue. It would have been so easy to let them fall out.

He watched Draco's pupils dilate and heard the man swallow before letting out a shaky breath.

"You want to be my boyfriend?" asked Draco.

Harry chuckled. "I thought I was already." He leaned back a bit. "Were you waiting for me to ask you? Is that what you meant about being proper?"

Draco looked away, but nodded.

"Why didn't you ask _me_, then?"

"I wasn't sure if that was what you wanted," Draco replied.

"Of course it is. I shouldn't have assumed." Harry grinned. "Draco, will you be my boyfriend?"

"You know that means you can't date anyone else. And you'll be expected to escort me around."

"Yes. I don't want to date anyone else."

"And you'll be required to have infinite patience with me."

"Don't I already?" Harry laughed. "Are you trying to talk me out of it?"

"Just making sure you understand what officially dating me entails. My mother will likely have a thing or two to say on the subject."

"We'll deal with that as it comes," Harry said. "I'm still waiting for an answer."

"I thought that was a given."

Harry shook his head. "I want to hear you say it."

"Yes." Draco leaned forward, kissing Harry purposefully. "I will be your boyfriend."

"I haven't felt this happy for a long time," Harry admitted. "I was terrified when I realized you'd been taken hostage. I wish we could stay here in bed forever."

Draco cringed. "I should go see Mother. I'm sorry. I would love nothing more than to stay here and let you strip me of my virtue."

"She needs you. I understand."

Draco ran a finger from Harry's jaw, down his chest and circling his left nipple. "It is early, though. And Mother's appointment isn't until noon."

Harry exhaled sharply. He felt his cock jerk to attention. Draco's finger circled again, then flicked.

"Fuck. Don't tease."

"Who says I'm teasing? I want you, Harry. I want you to take me."

"What about propriety?" Harry smirked.

"I'm your proper boyfriend now. Technically, we're not supposed to fuck unless we're engaged. And no one admits to it even then. But that's a bit of an old-fashioned notion now. Even among purebloods."

It finally dawned on Harry. The etiquette and propriety Draco was concerned about was pureblood tradition. Draco expected to be properly wooed and made some sort of commitment before engaging in physical intimacy.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Nothing. I wish you had explained to me how important it was to you that we had an understanding before we . . . before _I_ did things to you."

"Things like wanking and blow jobs?" Draco laughed lightly. "I told you, I wanted to do those things. And now I want to make love. I want you to make love to me. Please, Harry."

Harry rolled Draco onto his back. He could see that Draco was well enough aroused under his pants. He pulled them all the way off, tossing them aside, then removed his own.

They rutted and kissed leisurely, for a time, trailing precum on each other's bellies. Draco's fingers trembled in Harry's hair. Harry pulled away. He wasn't convinced that Draco was actually ready for the realities of bottoming for the first time.

"Just a moment. I need my wand."

He reached over to the side table. Looking back at Draco, Harry could see nervous tension in his body. Stiff back, furrowed brow. Legs spread unnaturally wide.

"I'm ready," Draco said, swallowing.

Harry whispered a spell and felt a warming sensation within him. He put the wand back, crawling over to Draco. He pushed his lover's knees together.

"There will be plenty of time for that." Instead, Harry straddled him.

"What are you doing?"

"There's more than one way to make love." Harry took hold of Draco's cock, keeping it in place while he lowered himself.

"Oh my," Draco breathed.

Slowly raising and lowering himself inch by inch until he was seated on Draco's hips, Harry watched his lover's face. Draco still appeared nervous, yet lustful at the same time.

"All right?" Harry asked.

"Brilliant."

Harry grinned. "It gets better."

Using his well-muscled thighs, Harry lifted his body up and down Draco's cock. Though he'd bottomed a decent number of times before, it was always a different experience with a new partner. Knowing it was Draco's first time made it all the more important it was a good experience.

"What should I do?" asked Draco.

"You could move your hips to counter mine, or touch me. Or yourself. Or you don't have to do anything but watch."

"I like watching."

Harry smiled down at him. He leaned forward. Watching was nice, but Harry liked to kiss. While he ground his himself on Draco's cock, he pressed his own into Draco's belly. He felt Draco's fingers trace circles on his back. Bliss was the only thought to occupy Harry's mind.

"I'm getting close." Harry sat up leaning his hands on Draco's chest, helping to move his body more forcefully.

He wrapped one hand around his cock and stroked in time with his bouncing. Draco's hands wandered up his torso, rubbing his chest.

"God Harry, you look so . . ."

Harry's hand began moving faster. He closed his eyes and leaned back, suddenly feeling an intense need to cum. The way Draco's cock rubbed against his insides was unlike anything he'd experienced before. When he came, he felt it through his whole body–wave after wave, erupting between their bodies until Harry couldn't take the overload of sensations.

He stilled, gasping for breath, and opened his eyes to find Draco open-mouthed and flushed. Harry licked his lips.

"Sorry. Just needed a moment."

He lifted himself off, lying next to his lover. Taking Draco's cock in hand, he finished him off while kissing and licking his nipples.

Afterward, they lay in silence, occasionally running a gentle hand over the other's skin.

Finally, Draco asked, "Did that count? I didn't cum while you were on top of me."

"Of course it counts. Consider yourself stripped of your virtue." Harry smirked. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"Sorry for what?"

"I . . . I wasn't able to stay on after I . . ." Harry sighed heavily. "That was quite intense."

"It's not always like that?"

"I've never done that."

Draco gasped. "I thought you said you've bottomed before."

"I have. I have," Harry assured him. "Just not in that position." Harry grinned broadly. "I highly recommend it."

"Maybe next time?" Draco asked shyly.

"Whatever you want, my love."

Draco stared. "Is that . . . a figure of speech?"

Harry could have said yes. He could have made light of the comment. But Draco had already heard Harry admit to Ron that he was falling for him.

Draco hadn't made any declarations himself, but he happily agreed to be Harry's boyfriend.

After everything they'd been through together, Harry saw no reason to play coy.

"It wasn't meant to be. It just slipped out," Harry said. "Now that it has, I would like to make my feelings clear."

The expression on Draco's face wasn't hard to read. He appeared . . . Harry tried to come up with the right word for it. Expectant? Eager, even.

"I'm in love with you, Draco. I suspect it's been coming on for quite some time." Harry took one of Draco's hands, pressing his lips to it. "I know I've been moving quickly. And I don't expect you to–"

"I love you too," Draco interrupted. "And I _know_ it's been coming on for quite some time."

"You do? I mean, it has?"

"Ever since the Room of Requirement." Draco cleared his throat. "I've come to realize there have been few people in my life who have truly had my best interests at heart. Mother, of course, whom I love dearly. Dumbledore tried, but I wouldn't listen. And you."

Harry had to laugh a bit at that. "I always fought against you in school."

"Yes, but I think it was your way of trying to turn me 'round. You called me out. Made me look at myself. When it came down to it, you saved me from certain death in that fire. And then you testified. You forgave me. You forgave me when no one else would even listen to what I had to say. That day at the cafe gave me hope, and the strength to carry on."

"I remember that day." Harry smiled.

"I don't know if all that is a proper basis for love."

"Does everything always have to be proper?"

"I've done an awful lot lately that hasn't been proper," Draco said. "I've never been so happy. And yet, so sad at the same time."

"I'll help you through it," Harry offered.

"Yes, I believe you will. I believe you were meant to, as though we were always meant to be together."

"We were," Harry agreed.

He sighed as Draco nestled into him. It took them even longer than Ron and Hermione to figure out their feelings. They may not have had years of deep friendship from which to build, but they could let go of the past and begin making new memories.

Harry felt they were off to a brilliant start.


End file.
